


Relationship Goals: Have a Relationship

by cleo4u2, xantissa



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Couch Sex, Dick Pics, Dom!Steve, Domestic Avengers, Exhibitionism, Light BDSM, M/M, Masturbation, Natasha is scary, PTSD!Bucky, PTSD!Steve, References to Depression, Sexting, Shrunkyclunks, Sub!Bucky, Wrong Number AU, amputee!Bucky, bucky is a good big brother, cap!steve - Freeform, comic book hawkeye, gratuitous dick pics, modern!Bucky, steve never listens to advice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 22:04:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13797270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleo4u2/pseuds/cleo4u2, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xantissa/pseuds/xantissa
Summary: When Bucky gets a message from an unknown number, he never expects it to lead him on an exciting journey filled with naked pics, hot sexting and surprise flights over Manhattan with Iron Man himself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Art by the wonderful, last minute butt saving, [Fannishlove](http://fannishlove.tumblr.com/). Thanks so much, babe!
> 
> Huge thanks to our allstar beta, , [NurseDarry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NurseDarry/profile), because she is a perfect human being. All hail the Glow Cloud!
> 
> All green bean figures are made up because Cleo DGAF about green beans, or inflation, and she will not be spending twenty fucking hours on researching fucking green beans. The cheese facts, however, are very real.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/87296559@N08/38669640880/in/dateposted-public/)

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/87296559@N08/38669640730/in/dateposted-public/)

Bucky was having a good day, all things considered. There was only one repair scheduled in his building, so he could get the cleaning and landscaping done for the week without working overtime. Maybe even get extra time to himself. Being a superintendent for an apartment building in Brooklyn was turning out to be a dream job. Not only did he live in the best part of New York, he was living rent free, _and_ getting paid to fix things. Sure, it wasn't as easy as it had been when he had two hands, but he tried not to dwell on that. It had been hard enough after the attack, after getting back Stateside to battle PTSD and depression. He was afraid if he thought about it too much, he'd sink back into that mindset where he could barely take care of himself, let alone hold down a job or have any kind of relationships with his friends and family. A relationship with another man had been out of the question before, but these days he was letting himself consider it.

Dating… Bucky wasn't even sure where to begin. Not many people were interested in maimed ex-soldiers, and even fewer of them were gay men. It didn't help that he'd never enjoyed the club scene, or was adverse to online dating. He knew he wasn't hurting in the looks department, but there was that whole scared, missing an arm thing again.

Bucky's phone buzzed as he headed out to trim the bushes lining the front walkway into the building. Swinging his tool bag over his shoulder, he fished his phone from it's holster on his belt and swiped it unlocked. The message wasn't the one he was expecting from his sister about dinner. It was, however, about food.

 **Unknown Number** : I can't believe how cheap green beans are

Part of Bucky wanted to ignore the message. The part that was bored and tired of hanging out with his sister on Fridays wanted him to respond. So, curious despite himself - because who cared about the cost of green beans? - Bucky tapped out a reply.

 **Bucky** : Who is this? And what green beans?

Invested now, Bucky was relieved when he didn't have to wait for a response.

 **Unknown Number** : Like from the store

 **Bucky** : What store? Who is this??

 **Unknown Number** : That corner store by the tower

Before Bucky could ask which tower, he got another message from the stranger with a New York area code.

 **Unknown Number** : Tony asked me yesterday, who lives in an icicle under the sea, and I still don't understand the reference

“Icicle?” Bucky wondered out loud, not recognizing that half of the reference, but more curious than ever.

 **Bucky** : Sponge Bob. Seriously, who is this?!!

 **Unknown Number** : What's a Sponge Bob?

“Who doesn't know Sponge Bob?”

Realizing he was talking aloud to himself, Bucky glanced around to find the hallway still empty, and turned back to his phone.

 **Bucky** : A cartoon character. He lives in a pineapple under the sea. There's a whole theme song, memes, everyone knows Sponge Bob

 **Unknown Number** : Ok I must have a wrong phone number

Bucky snorted.

 **Bucky** : Wouldn't know since you won't tell me who this is

 **Unknown Number** : Steve. This isn't Nat is it?

Leaning his empty shoulder socket against the wall, Bucky couldn't help but smile. He didn't know who Steve was, but the guy had been shockingly easy to talk to, and that was rare for Bucky these days. Maybe it was because they weren't face-to-face, but regardless, it was first friendly interaction he'd had with a stranger in a long time. It was a distraction he was more than willing to carry on to keep him from work.

 **Bucky** : Sorry, names Bucky. You gonna explain this green bean thing to me or what?

 **Unknown Number** : Well, Bucky I don't know if you know this but the price of all groceries has increased exponentially over the last century. Except for green beans. They've been pretty stable.

As Bucky tried to wrap his head around who the hell cared about prices, Steve sent him another text.

 **Unknown Number** : They've gone up, don't get me wrong but of everything I've looked at, green beans are the most stable. It makes me wonder how the green bean farmers are even making a living

Bucky had to smile at that because it wasn't a connection he had made between the facts Steve had offered.

 **Bucky** : Probably government subsidies to the green bean industry

 **Unknown Number** : Really? I didn't think we did things like that.

 **Bucky** : Oh yeah. You know there are caves in Kansas full of cheese? The government bailed out the cheese industry by buying their excess cheese and now they're fucked and don't know what to do with it all, so they just stick it in caves

 **Unknown Number** : And what? Pray it away?

A laugh burst from Bucky’s chest, startling him as much as it it echoed down the empty hall as because he didn't remember the last time he'd laughed.

 **Bucky** : Well, what do you expect? They can't admit they have it all or how much we pay for all that cheese no one is eating

 **Unknown Number** : No matter what decade it is the politicians are all shady but listen, I've been thinking and I just can't figure it out. Why would anyone live in a pineapple under the sea?

Scrunching his nose, Bucky tapped out a quick reply.

 **Bucky** : How do you not know Sponge Bob?

 **Unknown Number** : Nat says I'm a sheltered innocent, but I was in the Army too long to be the latter

The weird way his heart beat to know his wrong number acquaintance was military (if Army, ugh) caught Bucky off guard. A fellow vet would understand so much, so many things he'd never have to explain. It's why he'd considered going to the VA, but he still isn't quite up to putting in the effort of being a ‘whole boy’ around strangers. This, at least, is easy, even if texting with one hand isn't.

 **Bucky** : Alright lemme give you an education in cartoons

Two hours later, after they'd discussed Nicktoons and Cartoon Network, cartoon art styles, jokes meant for parents in kids shows, and T.V. parenting, Bucky had a stupid smile on his face and hadn't gotten any of the extra work done. He had moved back to his little apartment on the first floor, cracked a beer, and plopped down on the couch. His hand and forearm hurt, but he had been smiling for longer than he could remember without his sister, Becca, around. Steve, who he had saved in his phone as Mr. Green Bean, was engaging, funny, and smart. At the same time, he knew next to nothing about pop culture, or culture period. It was a weird and intriguing combination that kept Bucky from caring about the yard work. Even if it meant working an extra hour tomorrow, this was worth it.

 **Mr. Green Bean** : Hey, so I have a work meeting to get to. You mind if I text you about this stuff? One of my coworkers likes to fucj with me

 **Bucky** : That Tony guy?

 **Mr. Green Bean** : Yeah. He thinks it's hysterical when I don't understand his references

Biting his lip, Bucky had to carefully type out his answer, deleting parts, changing it until he was satisfied he didn't sound as eager and pathetically friendless as he was in reality.

 **Bucky** : Yeah, why not? You were a lot of fun to talk to

Steve's enthusiastic reply of, “Great! Talk to you later!!” made him feel silly for even trying. All those exclamation points, and here he'd been playing it cool. Shaking his head , Bucky pushed his phone into his pocket and climbed to his feet. There was still daylight enough to get the rest of his chores done today after all, and maybe he'd actually get to spend his extra time this week texting, and, he hated himself for even hoping, making a new friend.

\----

There were times in a man’s life where he knew it was all or nothing. Stay strong or be defeated. This? This was one of those times.

Bucky licked his lips, keeping his eyes on his target and not daring to blink. He knew it would only be a matter of seconds, a blink and he would miss his chance. He couldn’t afford to lose it, not after all that he had gone through to get this far. No, his eyes burned, but he kept them locked with the acid green gaze of the devil itself. Sly, deceiving… No, he wouldn’t fall for this trick twice.

The moment was almost right, Bucky could feel it. He tensed his whole body, ready to launch himself at the Colonel… and his phone chimed.

Mrs. Carbonetti’s twenty pound, Norwegian forest cat, Colonel, leapt away, using the moment of distraction and foiling Bucky’s launch. Cursing, Bucky rolled and leapt to his feet, but the damned cat had already bolted out of sight. He could find it again, but the chase had almost been over and now he had to start from square one. And all because…

Fishing his phone from his pocket, Bucky swiped the screen with his thumb and felt some of his irritation drain at the name of Colonel’s accomplice.

 **Mr. Green Bean** : Who is Pinky? Why did Tony call me Pinky?

 **Bucky** : You just cost me a cat

 **Mr. Green Bean** : What? Is that a show title?

 **Bucky** : No, it’s a 20 lb beast of a cat that is now gone again.

 **Mr. Green Bean** : I can’t have possibly known that

Sighing, Bucky rubbed his brow with the edge of his index finger, then lowered the phone to text a reply.

 **Bucky** : I just got outsmarted by a cat. My pride is suffering.

 **Mr. Green Bean** : Then help me get back at my friend and explain why he called me Pinky

 **Bucky** : I’m not sure. What’d he say?

 **Mr. Green Bean** : He said “Same thing he does every night, Pinky, try to take over the world.”

 **Bucky** : Pinky and the Brain. It’s another cartoon, a bunch of shorts. They’re mice and Brain tries to take over the world every night

Heading into the building, Bucky started down the stairs. Colonel’s favorite hiding place was in the laundry room, behind the dryers; probably because it was warm.

 **Mr. Green Bean** : Oh. Mice taking over the world, huh? Well, if you can lose to a cat, I guess anything is possible

 **Bucky** : Ha ha. Very funny coming from Captain Sheltered

 **Mr. Green Bean** : Yeah, well Captain Sheltered hasn’t lost a fight to a cat, or anyone, since he was 23

Before Bucky could reply, Green Bean (the shit that he was), added, “And I’ve never lost a fight to a cat, period.”

 **Bucky** : Yeah? And how many cats did you fight?

 **Mr. Green Bean** : Do mountain lions count?

Lowering the phone, Bucky gave it a baffled look. Mountain lions? Really? Not that it mattered, because mountain lions were not cats. They were, well lions.

 **Bucky** : No. Only spoiled, too smart, fucking heavy cats belonging to old Italian ladies count

 **Mr. Green Bean** : Well, now I can add that you’re A CHEATER to the list of things I know about you

Snorting, Bucky peered cautiously around the stairwell door in case Colonel had decided to take a nap in the middle of the hallway instead of finishing his trip to the basement. The fat cat was so lazy, he sometimes just quit running and plopped down. Not that that meant he’d hold still.

 **Bucky** : You first have to survive the beastie, then you can brag about it

 **Mr. Green Bean** : Fuck you, I survived a mountain lion

 **Bucky** : You kiss your momma with that mouth?

 **Mr. Green Bean** : If she wasn’t dead

Wincing, Bucky really didn’t know what to say to that. Thankfully, Steve didn’t wait before sending another text.

 **Mr. Green Bean** : By the way, thanks, Tony is flabbergasted I knew they were mice

 **Bucky** : Careful, he might catch on

 **Mr. Green Bean** : Worth it. Good luck with your cat problem

 **Bucky** : I’ll probably need it

Tucking his phone into his jeans’ pocket, Bucky went still as he saw the furry tail (and sizeable ass) sticking out from behind a washing machine. Colonel was routinely convinced that if his head was hidden, nobody could see the rest of him. Which was damn good for Bucky, who liked Mrs. Carbonetti enough to chase down her damn escape artist-cat. How did a cat who weighed more than most small dogs get away so fast, anyway?

Turning to close the door behind him, Bucky flexed his fingers.

“So, are you going to play nice this time?” he asked aloud, knowing better than to completely startle the creature. It wasn’t the easiest thing to catch an unruly cat with just one hand, and Colonel could be vicious when scared.

The tail tip gave a little flick, but the cat didn't move. Bucky kept his tone pleasant and his footsteps slow and casual as he crept nearer.

“On the one hand, I appreciate you clearing the dust from behind that machine, but your mama isn’t likely to feel the same.”

At the word ‘mama’, Colonel let out a little chirp.

“Yeah, I’m going to take you to your mama, so don’t try to run away from me this time.”

Bending over, he lowered his hand so his fingertips brushed Colonel’s curved spine. Fur shivered at the contact, making the cat’s long hair ripple. Otherwise, he didn’t move.

Taking it as a good sign, Bucky slid his palm under the heavy body, and lifted. The cat went, easy as you please, as if it hadn’t spent the last few hours running from him at every opportunity. Colonel would probably get along swell with Steve, seeing as they were both little shits.

“Now you’re a sweet kitty?” Bucky said lightly as he pressed the huge cat to his chest, trying to give it a bit more support than just his hand. “You’re a menace.”

The cat chirped again and shifted in his grip, making himself comfortable, clearly expecting Bucky carry him all the way back to the seventh floor. Nuisance.

“You’re lucky your mama makes me some damn good lasagna,” Bucky grumbled as he headed for the door, “or I’d let you get stuck back behind the machines.”

Colonel just purred, and Bucky had the distinct impression he was being called a liar.

\----

Opening his eyes, Bucky sighed deeply as his clock ticked from 2:02 to 2:03. He curled himself a little tighter about his aching stomach, wishing the meds he’d taken would finally kick in. Assuming they would at all. He’d eaten something that disagreed with him, or not eaten enough veggies, or fruit, or whatever. To be honest, he didn’t care what he’d done, he just wanted it to stop.

Wishful thinking.

Sighing again, Bucky reached for his phone. Yeah, the light wouldn’t help him get to sleep, but he wasn’t sure that was on the cards anyway. Not with the way his stomach was twisting about itself, forming a heavy knot. Futzing with his phone gave Bucky a few minutes of distraction, but there was only so much to do at two in the morning. Reddit wasn’t exactly jumping, and neither was Facebook.

On a whim, he decided to send a text to Steve. Becca was definitely sleeping; she had a big test the next day, and Steve was (sadly) the only other person Bucky talked to outside of his parents. Besides, he really wanted to know why the hell the guy had fought a mountain lion. Even still, he wasn’t expecting a reply.

 **Mr. Green Bean** : Why are you even awake at this hour?

 **Bucky** : Stomach hurts. So be kind and distract me with a good story

The pause that came was so long, Bucky’s stomach tightened for all new reasons. It wasn’t like he knew Steve, not really, and here he was bugging him in the middle of the night. Something he should have considered before he’d sent the text. It was too late now, but it sucked that he might have pissed off his first potential friend since that IED had fucked everything up.

 **Bucky** : If you’re trying to sleep, or busy, just ignore me…

Just as he’d hit send, his phone chimed four times with his requested story, broken up because it was so damn long.

 **Mr. Green Bean** : So we’re in a base. I can’t tell you why, or where, or who, for security reasons, but we’re in an enemy base, up the side of a mountain. Our MO is to get in, fuck the place up, and get home again, quick as you please. Mostly it goes as planned, except for the mountain lion. See, the commander of this base had somehow got a fucking mountain lion imported from the States and had raised it as a pet. When he bugged out, the

 **Mr. Green Bean** : asshole left the mountain lion in his office, where yours truly went thinking it would be a swell place to find any intel we could use. Instead of intel, I open this door, hear this low growl, and get a face full of giant, pissed off cat. I jump back, nearly shit myself, only to realize the fucking thing is collared and chained to the wall with just enough give to reach the door, but not pass it. Great, swell, only we really do need that intel so I’m not dead, but I

 **Mr. Green Bean** : still gotta get in there. Since the rest of my unit are still clearing the place out and planting some charges, I’m on my own with this little dilemma. Yeah, I hear you, I could have just shot the damn cat and been done with it. Thing is, it’s not the cat’s fault it’s there, or angry. He, or she I guess, was kidnapped and hauled a million miles from home and raised by a complete bastard. I can’t just kill it

 **Mr. Green Bean** : unless there’s no other option. So what to do? As I’m standing there, staring at this cat nearly choking itself to get at me, trying to figure out what the fuck to do now, three of the enemy fuckers come charging up the stairs, real unsubtle like. I can hear them coming ages away, probably hoping to use that same secret door their commander used to escape. So I turn around, because one damn problem at a time, and deal with my new friends. Except, while fighting, I kick one

 **Mr. Green Bean** : into the room with the lion. I won’t describe that part. Let’s just say, he was dead, and the lion was suitably occupied. Enough that I could sneak into the room, ransack the desk, then cut the chain keeping the lion to the wall. We were going to blow the place up and I couldn’t just leave it like that, you know? Then I scampered out, shut the door, and I hope that giant shit made it out the tunnel and ate his master

To say Bucky was enraptured with Steve's tale was an understatement. He'd laughed, winced, chuckled, and found himself cheering on the mountain lion, not to mention hoping it had survived. The language had taken him back a bit to his own service, and it had been a nostalgic feeling for once. Pleasant, even. Best of all, beneath it all was Steve's response to his anxiety.

 **Mr. Green Bean** : I don't mind. I wasn't sleeping either

 **Bucky** : That was a GREAT bedtime story

 **Mr. Green Bean** : Glad to be of service.

 **Bucky** : Do you?

Biting his lip, Bucky wasn't sure why he asked, but the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach returned. To clarify, he sent another text.

 **Bucky** : Are you happy to serve?

He used to love the service; the people he had served with, but now, thinking of those times was impossible without thinking about how it had all ended. A twang of pain went through his arm, but he ignored it since it wasn’t actually there to hurt, goddammit.

 **Mr. Green Bean** : To be honest, I’d normally blow that question off, but considering the circumstances… Happy’s got nothing to do with it. I serve because it’s the only familiar thing I got left. It gives me a purpose

Hesitating before sending his message, Bucky finally hit send. He’d never actually told this to anybody, not his family, not even the therapist he worked with after.

 **Bucky** : I used to love the service.

Now that it was sent, though, he couldn’t seem to stop.

 **Bucky** : I was very good at it. Better than anything before or since.

 **Bucky** : But it destroyed me and I don't know what to think anymore.

He took a deep breath, trying not to think what Steve thought of those broken messages. Then he panicked, realising just how much he was admitting to here. Desperately, he sent out a question to deflect from his confessions.

Bucky: Would you get out if you had another option?

 **Mr. Green Bean** : What other option? I don’t know how to be a person without a war

Something squirmed in his belly, maybe unease, maybe some kind of connection. He felt an intense kinship with Steve, even as his rational brain said the response was bullshit. Steve had to have done something before he became a soldier. Unless he had joined up as early as Bucky.

 **Mr. Green Bean** : Why is it easier to tell you these things than people I actually know?

 **Bucky** : Because you can’t see me, never met me and can choose not to ever meet me

 **Mr. Green Bean** : I guess. It’s weirdly nice and horrible

 **Bucky** : Have you considered going to school?

 **Mr. Green Bean** : Considered it. I dropped out of art school

 **Mr. Green Bean** : Feels like a century ago

 **Bucky** : art? @_@

What kind of art did Steve do? How did art fit in with an army career?

 **Mr. Green Bean** : Laugh it up. I’m pretty sure you’re the only one that knows that

 **Bucky** : Do you still do it? Art I mean

 **Mr. Green Bean** : I tried. This is gonna sound weird, but drawing just reminds me of everything that’s different now and everything I’ve lost

Art wasn’t something Bucky had ever had talent for, but he had always appreciated it. Especially realistic paintings and drawings; there was something intimate about them. He felt unexpectedly regretful that Steve had abandoned his talent. Steve sounded like a good guy, and Bucky felt sad that he seemed as lost in this world as Bucky was.

 **Bucky** : I was barely more than a kid when I joined. Turned out all of my hobbies are work related.

Bucky was leaving things out, but he couldn't make himself say why most of his hobbies were out of reach, or just a bad idea. It had been hard enough to come to terms with all he couldn’t do with one arm, it was another thing admitting it to someone who saw him as whole. Disingenuous or not, he liked that Steve just saw him as another guy.

 **Mr. Green Bean** : My new team thinks I just need to get out and try new things. Like I’ll magically feel better if I learn how to knit

“Knitting,” Bucky muttered scornfully.

 **Bucky** : Knit them little gun warmers in rainbow colors

 **Mr. Green Bean** : Oh that’ll go over well. I think if I touched my friend Natasha’s guns, she’d shoot me

 **Bucky** : Excuses, excuses. All you need is the gun’s make and model. Then you wait for some kind of holiday, pack them up really nicely and deliver the gifts as officially as possible. My advice would be to have a camera ready

 **Mr. Green Bean** : That sounds weirdly specific

Bucky froze, then laughed quietly at being called out.

 **Bucky** : You got me.

 **Mr. Green Bean** : So you did do it before? Gunwarmers? I mean, really?

 **Bucky** : Classified

 **Mr. Green Bean** : Oh, I see how it is. I tell you about the mountain lion, but you won’t admit you know how to knit

Bucky set the phone down, rolled his pillow, then stuffed it tighter under his neck. He stared at his phone, wondering if it would be okay to ask more personal questions. On the one hand, they hardly knew each other, but on the other, they’d been really open tonight. Maybe it was worth the risk.

 **Bucky** : You got any family?

 **Mr. Green Bean** : Not any more. My ma passed before I joined the army and I never had any siblings

Fuck, Bucky thought, dropping his phone again and rubbing at his eyes. Way to kill a mood. It looked like Bucky was talented when it came to putting his foot in his mouth.

 **Bucky** : I’m sorry.

And he really was. He might not be close with his parents after his military career had carved a chasm between them, but he still loved them, would hate to see them gone. His parents were good, loving people, but civilians struggled to understand how lost Bucky felt. A life where they weren’t there? Bucky couldn’t imagine it. They were always there for him, and they loved him. They were his support. And his sister, she was everything to him. There wasn’t a world Bucky could exist in without Becca calling him to chatter about boys or clothes or Game of Thrones. Each time somebody in the show died, he got an hour-long tirade about the unfairness of it. To think Steve was alone, that he didn’t have anybody to come home to, filled Bucky with a deep ache.

 **Mr. Green Bean** : It’s alright. It’s not easy, but I like to think she’d have been proud of me

 **Bucky** : I bet she would.

 **Mr. Green Bean** : You don’t know me at all, and yet that was the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me

 **Bucky** : Every mom would be proud of a mountain lion-fighting son.

 **Mr. Green Bean** : I sure hope so. The shit I’ve seen, mountain lions are at the bottom of the wtf scale

 **Bucky** : If you can talk about any of it I would listen

It was an offering Bucky knew might be impossible to be accepted. A lot of shit was classified, not just the James Bond action moments. Like a mission where he and his team had been sent to stand and wait in a shack in the middle of desert for six hours, ostensibly for a person of unidentified gender who never showed up. Still, he couldn’t talk about it. Yet, even with all they couldn’t talk about, Bucky felt Steve and he could understand each other.

 **Mr. Green Bean** : You wouldn’t believe me if I told you

 **Bucky** : I know how that feels. How different it all looks when you’re still in

 **Mr. Green Bean** : No, I mean, I don’t believe it some days. I once fought a guy without a face

Bucky blinked at his screen, waiting for the next message, maybe a correction or more information. Face? No face? Was it some kind of code? New military slang he was missing?

 **Mr. Green Bean** : And that’s not even part of the new stuff that’s all still classified

 **Bucky** : What do you mean face? As in face-face or not face-face?

 **Mr. Green Bean** : I mean I watched him peel his face off and throw it away. Had nightmares for weeks

Yeah, Bucky would probably have had nightmares, too.

 **Bucky** : I always thought that Hannibal scene was freaky, no idea what I would have done seeing it in real life

 **Mr. Green Bean** : Who’s Hannibal?

Yeah, sheltered didn’t begin to cover Steve’s lack of knowledge. Who didn’t know Hannibal?

 **Bucky** : Hannibal Lecter, The Silence of the Lambs. Watch it.

 **Bucky** : Wait, don’t. It’ll probably cause flashbacks

 **Mr. Green Bean** : You’ll just have to tell me all about it then

Grinning, Bucky made himself comfortable. He knew exactly what Steve was doing, distracting him, keeping him talking, making him forget his dreams. Yet, he appreciated it all the same and settled in to give a thorough explanation of how creepy Hannibal really was.

\----

Steve, Bucky found, was a morning person. As irritating as it was, he still couldn’t help but smile as his phone pinged at seven in the morning on a Saturday. There was only one person who would bug him this early, after all. Not that Bucky felt Steve was bugging him. On the contrary, he loved that Steve had no qualms contacting him for help at any time of day or night. It was almost like being needed.

 **Mr. Green Bean** : Tony sent me a gift. He says it’s a robot that will vacuum my floors and I’m not sure I trust him. This will ONLY vacuum, right? It won’t, I don’t know, explode in pink confetti everywhere?

The text was beneath an open roomba box, the round machine wrapped in plastic and white paper. Bucky was jealous, to be honest. He wanted a vacuum that did his chores for him. And wasn’t that the crux of being an adult; jealous over a fucking vacuum.

 **Mr. Green Bean** : It’s making noises!

Laughing, Bucky swung himself out of bed and padded barefoot to the kitchen for his morning coffee as he typed out a reply.

 **Bucky** : If you’re worried about it being a trap, why would you plug it in?

 **Mr. Green Bean** : If it’s actually what it says it is, it’s a fucking miracle of science

 **Bucky** : I’ll give you that. Roomba’s are pretty cool. I might be a little jealous

Starting the coffee pot, Bucky grinned as a picture of the roomba - glowing lights and all - showed up in his message feed. It was just sitting on the floor, but Bucky could tell Steve was excited and it was adorable, like a kid on Christmas. Bucky was just excited for his coffee.

Just as Bucky was taking his first sip, Steve sent another text, his message flashing onto the unlocked screen.

 **Mr. Green Bean** : It lives

Choking, Bucky did his best not to spit his coffee all over his phone and the counter it was lying on and managed a modicum of success. After cleaning up what he had spit out, and once he could breathe, Bucky was still laughing as he typed out a reply

 **Bucky** : This is totally worth being up early

 **Mr. Green Bean** : Early? It’s seven. I’ve been up for two hours

Rolling his eyes, Bucky leaned his hip against the counter.

 **Bucky** : Some of us broke our army programming to rise at 5 in the morning, Steve

When Steve didn’t immediately respond, Bucky tucked his phone into his pajama pants pockets - best invention ever - and headed back to his bedroom, though not to bed. He’d set up a small desk and computer in the corner for when he wanted to game, or surf the web, or anything else PC related.

He’d barely sat and set his coffee down and powered up Firefox when his phone went off again.

 **Mr. Green Bean** : It’s official, it vacuums better than me

 **Bucky** : lol

 **Mr. Green Bean** : I think my kitchen was deemed the den of horrendous filth because it keeps returning

 **Bucky** : Gross

 **Mr. Green Bean** : I guess

 **Bucky** : Are we gonna talk about your vacuum all day?

 **Mr. Green Bean** : IT’S COOL OKAY

Laughing, Bucky shook his head.

 **Bucky** : Ok

A few seconds later, Bucky’s phone chimed again. This time, Steve had sent a video, and Bucky was surprised it had taken him this long. Opening it up, he found what he expected, the little roomba working its way through a kitchen, the tile white and polished, the cabinets dark wood, and appliances steel. It was an odd mix of old fashioned and modern, one Bucky liked because of its quirkiness. The only disappointment was that the camera kept its focus on the ground and Bucky never got a chance to see Steve, not even his shoes.

 **Bucky** : Yes, Steve, it’s a vacuum

 **Mr. Green Bean** : Jealous

 **Bucky** : Shut up

\----

“I’m glad you finally made a friend.”

Becca was hunched over Bucky's hand, patiently doing whatever the fuck to his nails. At some point, his baby sister had decided she wanted to own her own beauty salon. She was having it at beauty school, but had one, little problem: no one to practice on. Bucky, being the best big brother on the planet, had volunteered to be her first victim. He only had one hand, but she said that was fine since she had to practice removing her handy work as well.

“Are we really friends if we've never met?”

Looking up at him through her fringe, Becca communicated wordlessly that she knew he was full of shit.

After she'd returned to her work, she said, “You're smiling more.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Your apartment’s cleaner.”

Bucky chuckled.

“Okay, that’s definitely Steve. He gave me a bunch of what he calls Depression tips - ouch!”

“Sorry!” Becca cried, grabbing a bottle and pulling Bucky's now slightly bleeding hand into hers again. Whatever liquid she painted on his mangled cuticle was cool, quickly soothing the sting. “So… you talk about it with him?”

For a moment, Bucky considered lying. He hated talking about his issues with Becca. Then she worried and nagged him, neither of which actually made him feel better. Besides, it was enough most days knowing she'd do anything to see him happy. She didn't deserve a lie to a direct question, though.

“I think it's easier ‘cause I can't see his face,” Bucky mumbled. “And I didn't actually tell him anything, he just… told me about his shit and what helps.”

“So what are the tips?”

Bucky felt bad as he relaxed at the question. Not that he could help it; he'd been dreading more digging. This was much easier.

“No matter what, keep my space clean and take my vitamins.”

“Vitamins?”

“Mmm.” Bucky cracked his neck, “Being depressed usually affects your immune system and getting sick only makes it worse. Same logic with keeping everything organized: losing track of something important can make a day astronomically worse and… it feels nice, having a clean space.”

“That's… surprisingly logical. Any others?”

“Keep my sleep regular when I can. Supposedly really helps stabilize mood.”

Becca was quiet a moment, the frowned at his hand.

“That's it? I expected something… profound.”

Bucky laughed despite himself and the topic.

“It's a little ridiculous how little things affect you when you're already down. It's helped - you know, baby steps.”

When Becca smiled up at him, Bucky felt a weight fall from his shoulders.

“One day at a time.”

“Exactly.”

\----

The long red nails Becca had put on Bucky looked a little ridiculous, but even more so when she'd laughed and pulled a cherry lollipop out of her purse. Bucky hadn’t blinked, snatching it and popping into his mouth before doing his best, sitting Vogue.

“Fabulous,” Becca had said through her laughter, and Bucky winked. “Lemme take a pic, send it to mom.”

Bucky agreed, mostly because it would make his mom happy to see him goofing off. Crossing his legs, he turned enough his mangled left side couldn't be seen, ignored Becca’s pointed sigh, and laid his hand daintily on his knee. When Becca snickered, he smirked around the lollipop and her camera let out a fake shutter sound.

Becca laughed at him.

“So prim and proper, like a real lady.”  
Raising a brow, he challenged, “You think I can’t do better?”

“I don’t know, can you?”

Oh, it was on. He was going to show his sister just how glamorous he could be.

“You better get that camera ready,” he warned as he reached for the end of the sucker and pulled so it barely rested on his lower lip. Then he tilted his head sideways and did his best to smoulder at her.

“Yeah, work that lolly.”

Becca was laughing so hard she was having trouble keeping the phone steady. The fake shutter sound was coming again and again, as he angled his hand for a better view of the long nails and then did his best to go down on the lolly. He managed a minute of it before the hysterical laughter and Becca’s ridiculous, porn-worthy encouragement broke his composure, and he too broke down laughing.

In his amusement, he dropped the sucker and bent down, feeling blood rush to his head. After that, it took some time to calm down. Whenever he stopped laughing, Becca’s dying chuckles would set him off again. Eventually, he ended up sitting on the chair and Becca sprawled on the floor. He felt exhausted, as if he’d done a two hour set at the gym, but it was the good kind of exhaustion. His face felt warm, his eyes were still a bit teary from the laughter, and his body was loose.

“How many pics did you take?” he asked finally, his voice hoarse.

“A lot.” Becca giggled. “Like a lot, a lot.” She held the phone closer to her face and unlocked the screen. “Nineteen, apparently.” She flicked her finger at the screen, going through them. Bucky watched her face, her eyes wide and cheeks flushed, enjoying the little faces she made when she saw one she liked. “Damn, you hot, bro!”

“Alright.” Bucky pulled the lollipop free and waved it and his hand at his little sister. “Take this shit off.”

“One sec.” Bucky’s phone chimed. “There, now you got the best ones too.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow.

“And I'm gonna do what with it?”

“Send it to your buddy. Show him how _fabulous_ you are.”

Though Bucky rolled his eyes, he considered it. He and Steve had yet to trade selfies, but it had to happen eventually. This was silly enough to be a good excuse. Bucky would be a big fat liar if he said he didn't want to see what Steve looked like. He was dying to know.

“Don’t be a coward.”

Bucky rolled his eyes.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Mmhmm.”

Though Bucky rolled his eyes again, Becca had his number. Moments after she was shutting the door to his apartment, Bucky had sent the shot with the lolly in his mouth, long red nails wrapped around the stem, to Steve with the caption “Fabulous big brother.” He eyed the row of pictures after that one in his gallery. They did turn out rather well, he had to admit. His lips were red, stained with the artificial flavor of the cherry sucker. His eyes were dark, half-lidded, and smoldering at the camera. Becca had made him look more like a model than ex-military. Briefly he wondered what Steve would do if he ever sent him the more risque pictures instead of the proper one he had chosen. Well, proper if one excluded the long red nails.

It shouldn’t have made him so happy that he received a quick response.

 **Mr. Green Bean** : Not that it isn’t fabulous, but what does wearing women’s nails have to do with being a brother?

Bucky chuckled as he typed out his reply and felt the knot of tension in his chest unwind with Steve’s lack of judgement.

 **Bucky** : You’re obviously an only child

 **Mr. Green Bean** : Yes, but what does THAT have to do with you wearing women’s nails?!

 **Bucky** : Becca needed someone to practice on. It’s pretty common that I’m her guinea pig

 **Mr. Green Bean** : Oh. Well, you’re a good big brother

Smiling, Bucky relaxed into the sofa.

 **Bucky** : Thank you, though I’m only forgiving your ignorance because you said I’m fabulous

 **Mr. Green Bean** : Well, at least there’s that

 **Mr. Green Bean** : My friend demanded I say ‘He’d do you’ and assures me it isn’t offensive. I’m only pretty sure I believe him, so sorry if he’s fucking with me again

 **Bucky** : Tell him I don’t put out until the third date unless there are gratuitous abs and dick pics

Setting aside his phone, Bucky reached for the remote and smiled as Project Runway started. It was a rerun, but he liked the show and fashion enough to watch again. When his phone chimed, he really was not expecting the shot of incredible abs and a treasure trail down into purple gym shorts. The message beneath was pretty stereotypical Steve, though.

 **Mr. Green Bean** : CLINT STOLE MY PHONE I’M SO SORRY

Covering his mouth with his phone, he stifled a laugh.

 **Bucky** : It’s ok. Tell your buddy he’s hot, but one out of two is not good enough

The show was well into a fight between two of the designers before Bucky got another response.

 **Mr. Green Bean** : I had to run away. He tried to take one

 **Bucky** : Cock-blocker!

 **Mr. Green Bean** : I can’t cock-block you if you’re not queer

Frowning, Bucky tilted his phone to the side, then poked it. He hadn’t told Steve he was gay, but this conversation had pretty heavily implied it. Maybe it was past time he’d done that, especially since he was realizing he had a crush on a guy he’d never seen, let alone one he’d met in person.

 **Bucky** : I’ll say it again: Cock-blocker

Now the time Steve was taking to respond wasn’t easy for Bucky. He couldn’t care much about the show, especially when he knew how the episode ended, but mostly because he hoped he hadn’t pinned his hopes on a homophobe.

When the phone chimed, Bucky held his breath, and then forgot how to breathe. The picture was of a second set of abs. Bucky had thought the first picture pretty spectacular, but this one looked almost unreal. The waist narrowed to a gorgeous ‘V’ and the pale skin stretching over muscles made of steel was absolutely astonishing. The body looked chiseled from stone, proportioned by a master, and so inviting Bucky’s mouth went dry. He wanted to lick, trace each contour with his tongue.

Wow. Just wow. That was Steve? Bucky would have thought the picture doctored if not for the fact it was a little crooked and there were random objects in the background; a bathroom counter with bottles and brushes scattered about.

Swallowing hard, his fingers shook and he had to retype his message several times.

 **Bucky** : Still one out of two. I’m not a sure thing yet.

 **Mr. Green Bean** : Maybe next time.

 **Bucky** : Pity

And it was. Bucky had never been more disappointed.

 **Mr. Green Bean** : I’ve actually never told anyone I’m attracted to men before

 **Bucky** : I’m honored, Steve.

 **Mr. Green Bean** : You just like my abs

Bucky nodded energetically before remembering Steve couldn’t actually see him.

 **Bucky** : This is also true

 **Mr. Green Bean** : How’d you know it was okay to tell people?

The question was surprising, but it shouldn’t have been. More than a few people had asked him once they knew his sexuallity, all of whom were still in the closet. Unfortunately for Steve, Bucky didn’t have an easy answer. There just wasn’t one.

 **Bucky** : You don’t. You just have to trust them, but mostly trust yourself. Even if they don’t accept you, it’s not about you. You deserve to not have to lie about yourself all the time

 **Mr. Green Bean** : Right. Ok

 **Bucky** : I know, not very useful. There’s no great formula

 **Mr. Green Bean** : Just means no more ab pics for you

 **Bucky** : Oh, come on! Just one?

 **Mr. Green Bean** : Nope

 **Bucky** : Mean. Cruel. Vicious and heartless

 **Mr. Green Bean** : Maybe tomorrow

Bucky grinned.

 **Bucky** : Good enough

\----

Bucky knew he was in trouble when the sound of Steve’s text message tone made him smile before he had even pulled out his cellphone.

 **Mr. Green Bean** : I told them. Tony said great, he has reasons to send me ‘dick pics’. Does that mean what I think it means?

 **Bucky** : It sure does and it’s a great idea. I’ll join in

 **Mr. Green Bean** : Please do

Swallowing, Bucky didn’t get a chance to think of a response.

 **Mr. Green Bean** : That was rude and forward. I’m so sorry. Ignore me. I wasn’t thinking.

 **Bucky** : How do you want me?

Bucky stared at the phone not quite believing he’d sent that. But... He wanted to send them. The thought of doing it, letting Steve see how hot he got from looking at Steve’s abs, was exciting in a way things hadn’t been for a long time. Of course, he could have just blown this budding friendship away because _wow_ , that had been forward. Too forward? What had he been thinking? He hadn’t, not for a second.

Just when Bucky was beginning to get antsy, Steve finally replied.

 **Mr. Green Bean** : Anyway you want to give me

Bucky swallowed.

 **Mr. Green Bean** : You don’t have to, don’t feel pressured, but I’d love to see you naked. If you don’t want to, or you’re uncomfortable, we won’t have to talk about this again. More than seeing how gorgeous you are, I want to remain friends.

Well.

Bucky stared at the phone feeling his mouth go dry. On the one hand, he was nervous as all hell. On the other, he lived by the motto ‘in for a penny, in for a pound’. Since he was really going to do this, he was going to do it _well_.

 **Bucky** : I hope you are not in public

Putting the phone on the couch, he considered himself. The emptiness on the left side of his body disturbed him on a certain level, so he wasn’t willing to show it. This was the beauty of starting this strange relationship over the phone, however. He didn't have to explain, didn't have to deal with pity or disgust. He was just a guy. A guy with really nice abs, if he did say so himself.

Pulling up his shirt up to expose his pale belly, Bucky unbuttoned his jeans, preparing for the first photo. It occurred to him that he could tease Steve; nobody had said he had to send a full frontal, naked pic right away. Licking his lips, he debated on stroking himself to hardness and laughed when that was enough. He picked up the phone, mouth dry as he took a picture of his midsection, his naked abs, fly gaping open, exposing charcoal grey boxers and the bulge of his cock beneath soft cotton.

The sound of the shutter sent a thrill down his spine, his cock reacting to it like a caress. His heart was tripping, thudding, as he pushed his jeans down his thighs, arching his body until his pants slid down his legs. The strain of his muscles felt sensual, this situation, his actions, erotic. It had never occurred to him to send pictures like this to someone before, but now that he was doing it, he knew he would again. The thrill was electric, making him groan as he ran his palm over his belly, down past the ‘V’ of his hips, to palm himself through his boxers. Pressing on his bulge, he gasped as his eyes fluttered closed. He was fully hard, the outline of his cock straining at the soft cotton.

He inched down his underwear, shivering as the elastic scraped his skin, until only the tip of his cock was visible He smoothed the cotton over it, a tiny spot of wetness visible on the fabric. This picture wouldn’t leave much to the imagination, but it felt so good to tease, to do this slowly. He wanted to look halfway undone, hoped Steve would see how much this was affecting him, and how eager he was to show Steve this part of himself. He wanted to get naked, wanted to take himself into his hand, but the anticipation was an aphrodisiac.

Biting his lip, he reached for the phone and took a picture of how he looked barely covered.

Panting softly, heat twisting low in his belly, his cock throbbing, Bucky set the phone down for his final picture. He was on edge, sensitised as if he had spent hours playing with himself and not moments. His lips were dry and he could feel the heat of a blush on his face. His hand shook as he reached for his underwear. Nothing had gotten to him the way knowing Steve would see him coming apart bit by bit as soon as he sent these photos.

He didn’t bother trying to push his underwear all the way down; he couldn't make himself wait so long. The fabric bunched beneath his hand as he stopped as soon he could wrap his hand around his cock. The first touch had him groaning as he tossed his head back, pressing it against the couch. He shuddered with the effort to stop himself from jerking off, to do nothing but hold himself upward while panting for breath.

A kaleidoscope of images fluttered behind his eyelids; strong hands and golden skin, touching him, watching him, wanting _him_. He wanted to show this to Steve. He _wanted_ like he’d never wanted before. Bucky had never experience such a visceral need.

When he let go of his cock, he moaned, but let it lay hard and curving against his belly, the head beaded with pre-come and red with his desire. This was it, the last picture. The one that would show how much he liked what he was doing.

The fake shutter sound was sharp and immediate, and Bucky moaned again. It was an effort not to jerk off right away, but to pull up the images in the message app in the right order. He sent them one at a time, without captions. They spoke for themselves, yet each time he pressed the send symbol, his hands were shaking.

At last, he let his phone drop onto his thigh, surprised and excited by his thoughts. He didn't want to jerk off right now. He wanted to wait for Steve to tell him what to do.

Picking up the phone again, he quickly typed out and sent, “Now what do you want to see?”

 **Mr. Green Bean** : Jesus, Bucky.

 **Mr. Green Bean** : You’re fucking incredible

 **Mr. Green Bean** : What do I want to see? You’re killing me. You mean it?

Bucky rarely typed a response so fast.

 **Bucky** : Yes. Tell me what to do.

While he waited for a reply, he slid his hand along his thigh, watching his phone screen lying on his other thigh expectantly. The touch had him shivering, biting his lip. He wanted so badly to touch himself, but he held off, waiting for Steve, and it made him ache all the more.

 **Mr. Green Bean** : I want to see you after you’re done. After you’ve come.

 **Bucky** : How do you want me to do it? Fast? Slow?

 **Mr. Green Bean** : I have to tell you how hard you’re making me right now

 **Mr. Green Bean** : Slow. Take your time.

 **Mr. Green Bean** : And after, tell me what you were thinking about.

Licking his lips, Bucky smiled and set his phone down. The texts had come in rapid succession, like Steve couldn’t get every thought out of his head fast enough. Knowing Steve was into this as much as he was tightened the coil in Bucky’s stomach into a knot. He let his fingertips stroke the base of his cock, teasing himself with the barely-there touch. It sent little shivers down his back, and he exhaled slowly before at last, he let himself wrap his hand around his cock.

At the onslaught of sensation, Bucky shuddered and groaned, before sliding down in his seat. Lightly, denying himself any real friction, he stroked upward. His eyes fluttered shut as he imagined how Steve looked. That unbelievable picture of steel abs figured in heavily. It stood to reason that the rest of Steve’s body was as incredible, and Bucky wanted to see him so badly. He wanted to feel Steve touch him, wanted his undoubtedly hot body to slide against his own, big palms gripping his cock. He tightened his own grip, imagining that Steve’s hands would be a little calloused, the hardened pads dragging at the sensitive skin.

As he imagined Steve licking him, and he brushed his palm over his glans. His mind kept jumping from image to image: Steve sucking him off, Steve jerking him off, Steve just watching him squirm, Steve fucking him. It was a glorious parade of filth, of golden skin and hard muscles, and Bucky was panting and moaning, his fist flying over his cock, all control gone. Slow just wasn’t an option, not with Steve on his mind.

The coiling low in his belly flew apart, flooding him with heat as he choked on a groan. The orgasm was an unstoppable wave; it rolled over him, blinding and intense as his cock spasmed and spurted jets of semen over his abs, all the way up to his neck.

Gasping, Bucky slid sideways, his body made of jelly. Sparks and lights danced behind his eyes as a sense of lassitude spread over him. He had forgotten that orgasms could feel this good, and he reveled in the peace and tingling sensation of his skin for as long as it lasted.

When he finally had to move, Bucky fumbled for his phone, his hand weak so he almost dropped it a time or two. This picture was harder, having to hide his shoulder as best he could and get the picture Steve wanted. He had failed to go slow, the least he could do was get this part right. All of him, ropes of come included.

This one he sent off without a caption as well, exhaustion settling into his bones so he didn’t want to move, let alone clean up and put himself to bed. He could wait for Steve’s answer, at least.

The chime of Bucky’s phone woke him from a doze. Startled, he didn’t realize the phone was in his hand until he was reaching for it. His entire body was abuzz with energy now, despite his nap and orgasm. Steve’s reaction was everything now, since he’d gotten his pleasure.

The message did not disappoint. There was just an image, a thick, cut cock held in a hand as big as Bucky had imagined. An angry looking red, veins trailing down the sides; Bucky wanted nothing more than to get his mouth all over it.

Bucky’s phone chimed again.

 **Mr. Green Bean** : Tell me what you thought of

Shuddering, Bucky started typing. He had no idea where this was going - other than incredible sexting - but he was eager to find out.


	2. Chapter 2

Steve wasn’t stupid. He knew what Google was and had spent an inordinate amount of time on it, probably more than most people his biological age (Millennials, see? He knew things). That’s why he wasn’t sure going to Tony Stark for relationship advice was the best decision he had ever made. Only, there was no one else; Clint was insane and terminally single, Thor was from literally another planet, Banner had ended his last relationship because he smashed a borough of New York, and Natasha was codenamed Black Widow. Tony, with his thousands of Google hits on past sordid relationships, was the only Avenger in a solid, healthy(ish) relationship.

Gingerly making his way into Tony’s lab, because the last time he’d barged in something had exploded, Steve waited in the doorway until DUM-E punched Tony in the shoulder and then jabbed his mechanical arm in Steve’s direction.

“Romeo!” Tony cried, grinning too broadly, like he had been since all of his so-called friends had discovered he had a texting buddy. “What brings you to my lair?”

“Your _lair_?” Steve repeated, fighting off a smile.

Tony just waved the question away.

“It’s not every day you seek me out; come on, what’s the deal?”

Steve was regretting this already.

“I have a problem.” The way Tony’s grin widened confirmed this was a _terrible_ idea, but Steve really did have no one else to turn to. “A… relationship problem.”

“Fear not, I can get you any props you'll ever need.” Tony offered immediately, reaching for his phone. “Custom made, best quality, no one will ever know; promise!”

“...Props?” Steve repeated.

As the gleeful smile drained from Tony’s face, he set his phone down.

“Oh, you’re not here for sex advice.”

Steve blanched.

“Tony, no offense, but you’re the _last_ guy I’d go to for _sex_ advice.”

“What?” Tony reared up, offended. “I have sex tapes! Hundreds of satisfied lovers-”

“Exactly,” Steve drawled.

“Well,” Tony glanced down and up, looking at Steve from behind his lashes and swaying oh-so-slightly, “who would you ask then?”

“ _Natasha_.”

“Hmm, Black Widow, I see your point.” Tony turned with a flourish, picked up a screwdriver, and spun onto a stool in a surprisingly graceful motion. “So, you hooking up with a girl?”

“A guy,” Steve answered dryly.

Tony frowned.

“Why would you ask Natasha for help then?” he asked with a frown, still obviously stuck on the sex.

Steve stared at Tony blankley, then said as slowly as he could, “Because she’d know best how to pleasure _a man_.”

Tony snorted.

“Yeah, if you are a woman.”

The force with which Steve rolled his eyes was painful.

“You don’t think she doesn’t know how to do _everything_ ,” he crossed his arms, “with any part of her body? Because I do. She’s fucking terrifying.”

Tony blinked the way he always did when Steve swore, but quickly rallied.

“Do you want to terrify your beau then? Or show him a good time?”

Steve glared, his arms flexing. Natasha wasn’t terrifying.

“Do you want to help me or not? ‘Cause I _can_ go ask Natasha.”

“No, no, no. Now you need to ask - I will die of curiosity otherwise. Please, my heart cant take the suspense.” Tony reached for his chest theatrically. “Think of my poor, poor heart.”

Keeping his face impassive, Steve said, “If your plan is to mock me this whole time, you can just die.”

Tony laughed and spun in his chair.

“Okay, okay, seriously.” He forced his face sober, brown eyes going huge in a way Steve just did not trust. “Tell me your troubles, mon Cap-i-tan.”

Blowing out a breath, Steve stepped a bit closer.

“There’s this guy.” Tony nodded, leaning his chin in his hand and nearly stabbing himself with the screwdriver. “We’ve been… fooling around.”

“Oooooh.”

“Shut up,” Steve huffed, but couldn’t help the way his lips twitched _or_ the blush rising on his face. “I haven’t told him I’m Captain America.”

“Oh.” Tony sat up straight. “Oh, that really is a problem. Why didn’t you say so?”

“Tony,” Steve groaned, head drooping on his neck.

“Take my advice, because I have literally been in your shoes - not that they’d fit - you _have_ to tell him. Sooner rather than later.” Tony froze and Steve pictured a light bulb going off above his head. “How do you a fool around with a guy who doesn’t know who you are? Did he live under a rock for the last year?”

Steve fidgeted and mumbled, “It’s phone sex.” Tossing his hands in the air, he said exasperatedly, “I think they call it sexting.”

Tony stared at him, eyes wide for a long moment.

“...wow.”

“I hate you,” Steve declared, turning on his heel and heading for the door.

“Wait!” Tony called to his back. “Steve! Do you know what this means?!”

Vindictively, and only thinking of Bucky a little, Steve said, “Yeah, Brain, but I don’t know why we’d need little hats at a tea party.”

“Did you just _sass_ me?” Tony shouted.

Steve didn’t answer, letting the doors to Tony’s lab shut behind him.

\----

 **The Goods** : I fell asleep

Even as he answered the text, Steve smiled. God, he had it bad. Just that chime and Steve was thinking of what they’d done last night, but also eager just to see what Bucky had to say. He was so gone on this guy.

 **Steve** : And that’s such a bad thing? Besides that it’s 11:30?

 **The Goods** : I am supposed to be working

 **Steve** : Did anyone notice?

 **The Goods** : The neighbors cat

 **Steve** : Colonel?

 **The Goods** : The one and only. Seems I left my window open.

 **Steve** : What did he do?

 **The Goods** : Climbed up onto my chest without me noticing. How something that huge can be that stealthy I will never know.

 **Steve** : At least he’ll be easy to catch this time

 **The Goods** : Don’t count on it. I think he’s your mountain lion, reincarnated

Before Steve could reply, several texts came in at once. This time from Tony, who had not stopped texting him since they’d spoken. In a complete reversal of his feelings, Steve’s shoulders slumped and he groaned loudly.

 **King of Assholes** : You tell him yet?

 **King of Assholes** : You didn’t tell him.

 **King of Assholes** : Steve.

 **King of Assholes** : You have to tell him.

 **King of Assholes** : Be a man, or whatever old-timey shit they used to say

Then there was a picture of some cartoon character, shirtless, wielding what was probably meant to be a bo-staff, but really just looked like a big stick.

Sighing, Steve forwarded the picture to Bucky.

 **Steve** : The fuck does this have to do with being a man?

In response, Bucky sent him a link to a YouTube video from a Disney movie called Mulan. The tune was ridiculously catchy, and Steve found himself smiling before the end, despite the jab Tony was giving him. He couldn’t help it. He _really_ understood Mulan after just a three minute video.

Shooting off a quick thanks to Bucky, Steve sent a text to Tony.

 **Steve** : That pole trick? Pulled that in basic. Before Project Rebirth.

 **King of Assholes** : BE A MAN

 **King of Assholes** : before it bites you in the ass

Closing his eyes, Steve bit his lip. Tony was an asshole, but… he was probably right. Tell Bucky the truth; he wasn’t just some guy, he was Captain America. That left just one problem: How to do it without scaring Bucky off.

\----

It took Steve a few days after his disastrous conversation with Tony to work up the nerve to approach Nat. Though she was a lot more subtle about it, she had as wicked a sense of humor as Tony, _and_ enjoyed teasing him the same amount. His pride really could only handle so much. Honestly, if Bucky hadn’t been so amazing (and hot, and sweet, and sexy, and funny), Steve didn’t think he’d have managed it at all.

Steve found her in the training room, wrecking a pair of training dummies. Not wanting to disturb her, he waited, watching as she spun with the grace of a ballerina and struck like a Mack truck. One, two, three, with the flat and side of her hand. Duck the perry, counterstrike, flip, and kick. One of the dummies sailed across the room, crashing into a wall, and Steve wondered - not for the first time - if she might have a bit of the serum as well.

“What’s up, Steve?”

Starting, Steve straightened. He hadn’t thought she’d known he was there. Pushing bangs he no longer had out of his eyes, he debated how to phrase his question as she turned around. Sweat darkened her red hair, pulled back into a ponytail. She was breathing heavily as she unwrapped her hands, but just waited, patiently, for Steve to find his words.

Finally, Steve blurted in a rush, “I’ve been sexting with the phone guy and I really like him, but he doesn’t know who I am.”

As expected, Natasha did not make any stupid comments, or look like a stunned fish, as Tony had. She was, however, brutally honest.

“It’s going to bite you in the ass.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Steve sighed, running his hand through his hair again while shoving the other in his pants’ pocket. “I’m not sure… _how_ to tell him. I really don’t want this to blow up in my face. I… like him. A lot.”

“‘Dear phone guy,’” Natasha said slowly, tossing the hand tape into the trash, “‘I’m Captain America.’”

“Because he’ll believe that,” Steve said dryly.

“Send him a picture of yourself.” Natasha gave him a long, appraising glance, from toe to top. “If you’re naked, he won’t be that mad.”

“I can’t do that!” Steve clutched at his chest, like he had a string of pearls, and only barely shoved his hand back into his pocket. “Natasha!”

The look she gave him was sutibly unimpressed.

“Steve, you’re _sexting_. You can definitely send him that.”

“I already sent him a picture of me,” Steve mumbled.

“It wasn’t the upper end, was it?” Steve didn’t have to answer that; they both knew the truth. She sighed. “Try including the face. See what he says.”

“Yeah, okay,” Steve said, and then ducked as Natasha chucked the other training dummy at his head. “ _The hell_?”

“Don’t you lie to me, Rogers,” Natasha snapped as she strode toward the showers.

Shit, he hadn’t thought he was _that_ obvious. He just… didn’t want a picture of his naked body _and_ face out there on the internet. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Bucky, because he did, but what if Bucky’s phone was stolen? Or Steve’s? Or one of those hackers got his hands on it? That’s just what they all needed, a naked Captain America selfie floating out there, for everyone to see.

Steve sighed and pulled out his phone to text Bucky.

 **Steve** : What do you do when you’ve really pissed off a friend and need to apologize?

 **The Goods** : Say you’re sorry, dumbass

Smiling, Steve tucked his phone away. If only he could ask Bucky about this dilemma.

\----

It wasn’t Steve’s plan to ask Bruce for advice, but he was growing desperate.

“I have a problem.”

Looking up from a beaker, Bruce eyed Steve over his glasses, then set his work down and faced him fully. The switch from being ignored to having Bruce’s full attention was always a bit unnerving. The scientist was so mild-mannered and quiet, Steve often forgot the intensity he could convey.

“I’m not sure I can help,” Bruce said, “but go ahead.”

Steve took a deep breath even as he began blushing.

“I’m sexting with a guy I really like, but he doesn’t know I’m Captain America, and I don’t have the balls to just tell him. But I need to tell him.”

Bruce looked thoughtful, leaning on his work bench and staring in Steve’s direction.

“Sexting, huh? How does that work even? I mean I know the definition, but does it really _work_?”

“If by _work_ , you mean, ‘can I get off?’ the it really, really works.”

“Huh,” Bruce straightened his glasses, “Well, honestly Steve, I think you know what you have to do. You just have to do it.”

“That is… not helpful.”

“You do realise you are talking to a person who hasn’t got off with another person in years? And probably won’t ever get a chance to do so with another human ever again? I’m still stuck on the sexting to be honest.”

Steve frowned.

“What? Why?”

Bruce’s face went tight.

“I think Tony needs me.”

“Bruce, wait -”

Like Steve had with Tony just days before, Bruce ignored him and strode from the lab without so much as a backwards glance. Steve really had no idea what to do, either. Bruce deserved to be happy, the Other Guy notwithstanding. It sure as hell shouldn’t keep him from love.

When he looked down, Steve was unsurprised to find he was already reaching for his phone to text Bucky.

 **Steve** : I got a friend who thinks he’s completely unlovable and will never have sex again. How do I help him?

 **The Goods** : You ask me all the hard fucking questions

Steve smiled, waiting, and sure enough Bucky’s response came through after a few minutes. He could picture him in his head, sitting on his couch, lips pursed as he thought of an answer.

 **The Goods** : I hate to say it, Steve, but you can’t solve everyone’s problems. That’s not your job as a friend. Your job is just to be there, support him, and care

As much as he hated the advice, Bucky was probably right.

 **Steve** : Your useless advice does not get you any dick pics

 **The Goods** : Rude!

\----

With no force on Earth strong enough to get Steve to ask an _alien_ for relationship advice, Steve turned to Clint Barton. The guy was sitting cross legged on the couch, an entire carafe of coffee in his hand. Apparently, mugs were too much trouble.

“Clint?” Steve asked tentatively.

“Mmph,” Clint grunted, but his eyes focused on Steve, so he was awake enough.

Maybe...

Mechanically, Steve asked, “I’m sexting with a guy I really like, but he doesn’t know I’m Captain America, and I don’t have to balls to just tell him. How do I get over it?”

Clint blinked at him for a long moment where Steve wondered if he should repeat his question, then thrust his hand out, palm up.

“Phone.”

“Um,” Steve hesitated, then handed the small, black box over.

Without setting down the coffee, Clint thumbed the lock screen and hit the messaging app. It was only then that Steve realized what Clint was going to do. His heart seized, and Steve dove for the couch.

Despite his dead-eyed look and barely verbal response, Clint was up and over the back of the couch before Steve cleared the coffee table.

“Clint, no!”

“Problem solving,” Clint grunted, dodging Steve again while sipping from his coffee pot, and thumbing Steve’s phone.

Letting out a hysterical giggle, Steve dove again, then kicked off the bar to change his path mid-air. “Not my coffee!” Clint shouted as Steve grabbed him and then went limp. It took no effort for Steve to get his phone, not when Clint’s priorities were cradling the glass carafe to his chest like a baby.

“Rude,” Clint hissed, reminding Steve of Bucky.

Everything reminded Steve of Bucky.

“I said, ‘ _no_ ’,” Steve said sternly.

“I said, ‘ _rude_ ’,” Clint sniffed and turned away. “You don’t want my help, don’t ask for it.”

Steve opened his mouth, then shut it, his shoulders slumping. His phone pinged twice.

 **King of Assholes** : BE A MAN

 **The Goods** : Tell me what to do

God, Steve was so fucked.


	3. Chapter 3

Finding Steve’s friend hadn’t been the kind of challenge Tony had been looking for when he woke up that morning. Yet, it was something to do. It would also put a stop to Steve’s endless excuses and pining. Once Barnes was in front of him, Steve would leap like he always did. It helped that getting Barnes to the Tower would be much more of a challenge than finding him.

The Brooklyn apartment complex was nice, the kind of place Tony could see Natasha living in, maybe Bruce, if they hadn’t lived with him. Tall and grey, Tony circled the roof and cursed his great luck once more. Barnes was leaning on a ledge, staring down at the street. He could see why Steve was into the guy, though. Tall and dark, long hair, piercing eyes, a cleft chin; he embodied sensual masculinity. The only thing missing was his left arm, which couldn’t be easy to deal with as a handyman. Though, Tony thought he could fix that.

Letting the thoughts of prosthetic enhancements linger in the back of his mind, Tony flew in front of Barnes, feeling a bit better when the man startled at the burst of thrusters. Vindictive, maybe, but no one had to know. Besides, the suit demanded the look of awe a bit of showing off incited.

The faceplace slid up as Barnes stared at him in wide-eyed wonder and managed, “Iron Man,” which was better than a lot of people managed.

“The one and only. You’re Barnes, right? You’re the one texting Steve.”

“You’re Iron Man.”

Tony frowned, eyeing the guy Steve had claimed was so smart.

“Yes. We’ve been over that.”

“Iron Man. Here.”

Tony rolled his eyes impatiently. Alright, maybe one word sentences.

“Yes.”

“Here. Why?”

Well, he’d wanted a challenge.

“I told you. You’re the one texting Steve.”

“Steve? No.” Bucky shook his head. “Not Steve Rogers. I mean, Steve, but not - No. Not - No. Captain Ameri- No.”

It took a good bit of effort for Tony to keep from laughing.

“JARVIS? Are you recording this?”

“Affirmative, sir.”

Good, he was going to show this to Steve later. It was _priceless_.

To Barnes, Tony said, “I see why he didn’t tell you.”

“There was nothing to tell,” Barnes insisted, his voice just a little higher in pitch. 

“Yes, because I fly over to just anyone’s house to invite them to the Tower to stop Steve from moping.”

The sarcastic bite to his words finally got through to Barnes better than anything else Tony had tried. Yet, he wasn’t on board just yet.

“This kind of thing doesn’t happen to me. You can’t be serious.”

Frowning, Tony flew lower and closer to Barnes, as if standing in front of him and not hovering.

“Why not? Because of the arm?” Barnes flinched and Tony patted himself on the back for figuring it out so fast. “So he didn’t tell you he’s Captain America, and you didn’t tell him about the arm. I was wondering why you were letting him stall. Turns out, you’re stalling too.”

“I’m not _stalling_ ,” Barnes blustered. “I’m - I’m -”

“Good,” Tony interrupted whatever lie Barnes had been telling himself, “then let’s go to the Tower and you can meet Steve. Worse comes to worse, you get a meet and greet with Captain America and I look foolish. Win for everyone.”

“Captain America.”

Tony groaned.

“Please don’t start that again.”

Bucky said faintly, “I did not send dirty pictures to the guy I watched plays about in middle school.”

“Dirty pics?” Tony perked up, interested now as he’d thought it was just sexting. “JARVIS are there -”

“No, sir. Any pictures are stored in my secure drives to which you do not have access as per your own instructions.”

“Damn it.”

“Oh my god, my mom is gonna kill me,” Barnes said, voice getting softer with each word.

“Nah, you’re gonna bring home _Captain America_ for Sunday dinner. Now come on, let’s go.”

Barnes just stared at his outstretched hand.

“Can’t we just… drive?”

Tony put on his best Steve voice.

“Son, if you could fly, you would choose it every time, too.” Then he ruined the effect by realizing he had forgotten something important. “You should grab a coat before we go.”

\--------

The roof of Avengers Tower was one of Steve’s favorite places. The only other person who came up here was Clint, and they stayed out of each other’s way. Up here, the city was drowned out by the wind and Steve could see for miles on a clear day. It was beautiful, peaceful, but not lonely, not with the whole city around him.

He saw Tony flying in from a distance away, the golden light of his thrusters visible even in the bright sky. With nothing else to do, Steve noticed that Tony was moving oddly, without the joyous loops and twists that was his usual style. Today, he was taking a more sedate path. 

Worried that something had happened, Steve moved closer to the edge. Maybe Tony was hurt? But then, why hadn’t he radioed in? 

As Tony got closer, Steve relaxed as he saw that Tony was just carrying something. Weird, but this was Tony after all. Nothing he did was really all _that_ surprising. Not even the ‘Blow Me’ birthday cake. Unexpected, but not surprising.

In moments, Steve had to rethink everything he knew about Tony Stark. The bundle Tony was carrying was set down at Steve’s feet. A _human_ bundle, with teeth chattering so loud it made Steve wince in sympathy even before he got a good look at the man. Long, dark hair… 

Bucky?

Steve stared, his stomach dropping to the vicinity of his knees. _Bucky_. Bucky was _here_. Frozen solid but here. Brought by Tony. Via the flying suit.

“Bucky -” Steve began, “Tony, wh-”

“Call this an intervention,” Tony said, stepping off the roof. “The door is locked, so deal with your problems, Steve. JARVIS will unlock when you two talk.”

“Tony!”

“Bye!”

“Fuck.”

“Cold,” Bucky chattered.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Steve repeated. 

Wrapping an arm around Bucky’s shoulders to offer warmth, Steve pulled him along to the door. Like Tony had warned, it was locked.

“I do not have time for this,” Steve growled, grabbed the handle, and yanked. 

With a screech, the door came free, along with the frame and a bit of the concrete too. There had been too many bolts for it to come away cleanly. No matter, now Steve was able to usher Bucky down four flights of stairs to his apartment. It was bad manners to forego a tour, but Steve was worried by how blue Bucky’s skin had turned. Bucky would forgive him, he figured, so he pushed him onto the couch and hunted down every blanket Tony had bought him. It turned out, there were nine. Only once he’d piled them around Bucky’s shoulders did Steve feel any better. Not that he felt great. Bucky hadn’t spoken since he’d said that single word. His teeth were still chattering.

“I’m really sorry,” Steve murmured, sitting on the coffee table in front of Bucky and rubbing his arm. “I should have told you, I know, but Tony shouldn’t have just grabbed you like that. I’ll understand if you’re mad at me, but I didn’t know what to say. Being a public figure is still really new to me, and I don’t handle it well at the best of times. Nothing I’ve told you was a lie, though, and I really like you, so I hope you can forgive me.”

Bucky still said nothing while staring at him with beautiful, big, grey-blue eyes.

“Bucky?” Steve bit his lip. “Say something.”

“The entire door.” Steve blinked. “It was reinforced steel.” 

“Um, yeah.”

“And embedded in concrete.”

“JARVIS?” Steve called. “I think we might need an ambulance. Bucky’s in shock.” 

Getting up, thinking something hot to drink might help, Bucky’s hand grabbed his wrist. It was the first time Bucky had touched him on purpose, and it affected Steve like he’d been electrocuted. Every muscle froze except his neck, which whipped around so fast it hurt.

“Not shock,” Bucky repeated, sounding dazed, “but,” he looked up at Steve, his voice carrying a strange tone, “the _entire_ door.”

“Oh for-” Steve threw his hands in the air. “Yes, the entire wall! If it had been any more reinforced, I would have punched my way through. It was _locked_.”

Suspiciously, Bucky flushed. Reaching out, Steve laid the back of his hand on Bucky’s forehead.

“Do you have a fever?”

“No, but...”

Steve sighed.

“The entire door, I get it.” 

“I don’t think you do,” Bucky said, enunciating each syllable.

“Then explain it, or I’m assuming you _are_ in shock and calling an ambulance.”

The hand on Steve’s wrist shifted, Bucky’s thumb brushing the sensitive inner skin. Shivering, Steve moved back to Bucky’s side to sit on the couch. Bucky finally met his gaze, but he wasn’t blushing any less.

“You would have punched down a wall for me.” Steve opened his mouth, then closed it, because the way Bucky said it sounded romantic. “Seeing you do that, it was… If I hadn’t been here, I’d text you and ask you to tell me what to do.”

“Oh.”

All the air left Steve on that single word. That was their code, the way they initiated every sexting session. Romantic and _arousing_ , that’s what Bucky was saying. No one had ever looked at it - at _him_ \- like that.

“I’m very good at punching things.” Steve turned his hand and linked his fingers with Bucky’s. “I’d punch a lot of things for you.”

“What a sap,” Bucky said dryly, but he was smiling at Steve now in a way that made his insides swoopy.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Bucky shrugged a shoulder.

“It’s not like I didn’t hide things from you.”

Steve blinked, then bit his lip. He really shouldn’t talk, but asked anyway, “Like?”

The look Bucky gave him was pointed, but Steve was definitely missing the point. At last, Bucky said, “My arm?”

Steve still didn’t know what he was talking about.

“What… arm?”

If looks could kill, Steve would have been a blood smear on the carpet.

“I guess it’s good you’re pretty,” Bucky mumbled. Then he tightened his jaw and shrugged the blanket off. Still smarting over the comment, it took Steve a moment to realise what he was seeing.

Bucky’s arm. Bucky’s whole _left arm_ was missing. 

Weakly, Steve murmured, “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said bitterly and pulled the blanket back over himself.

Instantly, Steve felt horrible. This was something he didn’t need advice for, though.

“Bucky, no.” He tugged at the blankets, then narrowed his eyes when Bucky didn’t let go. Lowering his voice to a rumble, Steve said, “The _entire_ door, Bucky.”

For a moment, Bucky’s eyes glazed over, and Steve used the advantage to tug the fabric from his grip. That shook Bucky from his daze and he looked away from Steve. Reaching up, Steve pulled his chin back around and kissed Bucky hard. Bucky’s eyes widened, and then his hand scrambled for Steve’s neck, holding on as Steve pushed forward enough Bucky fell back onto the couch. 

Looming over him, Steve gently kissed him again, then brushed their noses together.

“I’m so sweet on you, Buck,” Steve whispered. “I really don’t care. Well,” Steve frowned, “I care if it hurts you, or if you really think you don’t deserve love because of it, or -”

“Love?” Bucky blurted, his gorgeous grey eyes huge and round.

Steve flushed to his roots. Well, fuck.

Clearing his throat, Steve started to sit up. “Guess that’s another thing I was hiding.”

The hand that had been slipping away on Steve’s neck tightened like a vise. Then Bucky was throwing his leg over Steve’s hip and jerking him down into a filthy kiss. Gasping, Steve didn’t resist, falling into Bucky, into his mouth, reveling in his taste and heat, and the slide of their tongues against one another.

Panting as they broke apart, Steve’s mouth said, “You still want me to tell you what to do?”

Before he could be mortified by his fat fucking mouth, Bucky nodded and gulped. Steve groaned, burrowed his face into Bucky’s neck, and then sat up. It was an effort not to just rip Bucky’s clothes off and have his way. Then again, Steve’s hindbrain supplied, Bucky might like that.

“I’m going to tear you clothes off,” Steve said, pitching his voice in that way that got Bucky’s attention, “and fuck you. Right here.”

“Fuck, Steve,” Bucky panted, and Steve wasted no more time. Grabbing Bucky’s collar in each hand, he flexed, and tore it down the seams. 

It was easier stripping the remnants of the shirt off than Steve expected, the missing arm a help rather than a hindrance. Now that he got a good look at the scarring, wide and spidering out towards a chest he knew intimately from the pictures they exchanged. He hesitated momentarily, torn about what to do. To pay it too much attention could be misconstructed as staring, not enough and he could be taken as being cold.

“Steve,” Bucky groaned, fingers tugging sharply at Steve’s hair, then smoothing the small sting away. “Can you… just don’t pay attention to it, for now, okay? I want you to fuck me.” Bucky’s voice dropped. “We can talk later.”

“Okay,” Steve murmured, finding it surprisingly easily ignore the scars, now that he was paying attention to Bucky’s eyes. In person, they were more beautiful than he could have imagined, with little flecks of gold and blue floating through the grey.

Maybe it was the star gazing Steve was doing into Bucky’s eyes, but he didn’t expect it when Steve gripped his jeans and tore them in two just as he’d done with his shirt. Bucky shouted, mouth falling open, eyes darkening as his pupils dilated.

“Jesus,” Bucky gasped.

Steve just smirked, slipping his fingers beneath the waistband of Bucky’s underwear. Bucky licked his lips, and Steve snapped each side, keeping the elastic from stinging Bucky’s skin, and tossed the scraps aside. Breath rushed out of Bucky’s chest, harsh and rasping, as Steve leaned back over Bucky’s now-naked, vulnerable body. He gulped as Steve lifted his legs slowly, wrapping them around his waist.

“Your clothes?” Bucky squeaked, his eyes so dark there was barely any color left.

“In time,” Steve purred, grinding his denim clad erection against Bucky’s ass. “Gotta be ready for me first, doll.”

A shiver rolled through Bucky’s body, his eyes fluttering closed.

“Jesus,” Bucky cursed again, his chest heaving.

Steve leaned down, pressing his mouth to Bucky’s neck, nudging him to arch and stretch, to offer Steve more room. He inhaled the subtle scent of Bucky’s cologne, then closed his teeth over tender skin. Bucky’s breathing picked up, his scent changing subtly as his temperature rose. He wanted to devour Bucky whole, just take every little piece of him and gorge on it.

“Steve,” Bucky groaned, the fingers of his hand scratching at Steve’s shoulder.

Chuckling, loving how Bucky was putty beneath him, ripe for the taking, Steve leaned over to the coffee table and yanked open a drawer. He pulled out the tiny bottle of lube inside, and popped the cap. The sound had Bucky’s eyes flying open, fixing on him, flicking to the lube, and back.

“You keep lube in the living room?” Bucky asked, his tone more than a little accusing. “Have a lot of guests?”

“No,” Steve growled, grabbing Bucky’s chin and holding it in place. He leaned forward, forcing Bucky’s body to curl as their lips brushed, “Not like this. Not like you.”

Bucky swallowed.

“Then…?” Bucky’s voice was getting breathy again, but he was stubborn, too. Just how Steve loved him.

After dragging his lips over Bucky’s softer, plumper one, Steve sat back and squirted the slick substance onto Bucky’s belly. He let his eyes roam the body he had seen in pictures so many times. Just a few hours before, he’d thought Bucky couldn’t be any hotter, but having him here, beneath his hands, muscles squirming, messy hair spread over Steve’s couch, was so much _better_.

“Tony kept replacing it every time I removed it.” Steve rolled his finger through the lube puddle, enjoying the way Bucky’s stomach twitched at the contact, “so I stopped trying.”

“Oh. _Oh_ ,” Bucky’s eyes went wide and glazed again. “Oh my god! The Tony you keep telling me about is -”

The end of the sentence ended in a squeak as Steve pressed his finger against, then past Bucky’s rim. Crooking his finger, searching for that spot he knew Bucky loved, Steve growled, “You were saying?”

Throwing his arm over his face, Bucky just panted Steve’s name. The rush of heat that surged down his spine had Steve pushing the finger deeper, thrusting faster, needing to stretch Bucky so he could slide into the tight heat he could finally feel. Steve’s mind was taken over by the feeling, a parade of filthy images flashing before his mind’s eye. Every fantasy, every lusty thought about Bucky was now front and center, fighting for attention. His own cock was pressing uncomfortably against his zipper, his mouth dry and face hot. In that instant, remaining in control became a thousand times harder, his own lust urging him to open his pants get his dick out and get inside Bucky. Fuck him. Fill him. Have him.

Bucky shouted again as Steve added a second finger, back arching despite what had to be a stretch and burn. Yet, his grunts turned to soft cries, his face turned into the crook of his elbow, as his hips worked back down onto Steve’s finger each time he pushed in again. His ankles had locked about Steve’s hips, knees spread, so Steve could see every inch of him as he worked to ready him for his cock.

As Steve added a third finger, he ripped his shirt off with his free hand and Bucky finally surfaced. Biting his lip, his gaze burned Steve’s skin as it slid over his chest and stomach. As if drawn, helpless, Bucky’s hand followed his gaze, tracing Steve’s muscles, his nipples, and then squeezed his pec hard. Steve just licked his lips, surprised by how much he liked being ogled and molested, but Bucky _moaned_ , then shouted as Steve thrust his fingers in again.

“You get to touch me whenever you like now, doll,” Steve purred, and was surprised with how breathless the words sounded. 

“Later,” Bucky gasped, visibly biting back a moan, “I’m gonna get my hand on every inch of you. Now,” Bucky let out a strangled cry, tossing his head, before making an effort to focus on Steve again. “Now, please, fuck me.”

“Buck-” 

“Now!” Bucky shouted, as Steve hesitated. “I can take it.”

Pulling his fingers free, Steve stood and quickly stripped out of his jeans and underwear, leaving them on the floor amid the scraps of Bucky’s clothes. Then he was back between Bucky’s legs, surrounded by his love’s scent, Bucky’s hand curled around the back of his neck as he swiped his hand through the lube puddle and liberally coated Steve’s cock. The feel of his hand had Steve shivering, biting his lip in anticipation of what was to come, his heartbeat tripping. It was so hard to go slow, pull Bucky’s legs around his hips, then press his tip against Bucky’s hole and not just sink completely inside.

“Bucky,” Steve breathed, eyes closed as his whole being focused on the sensation of being inside Bucky.

Bucky’s nails dug into his nape.

“Fuck, you’re big.” He sounded shuddery and breathy, his voice wrecked as if he had spent the night screaming. 

Freezing completely, Steve looked down at Bucky and reached out, trailing his fingertips over his wrinkled forehead.

“Am I-”

“No,” Bucky assured quickly, “just… _for fuck’s sake_ , Steve. Can’t you _ever_ go easy on me?”

“Seems not,” Steve said as soberly as his twitching lips would let him. Seriously, he asked, “You need me to stop-”

“No,” Bucky said, then took a deep breath and the vise about his cock released a fraction, “Just… go slow.”

With those instructions, Steve moved like a glacier. It was, arguably, the most difficult thing he’d ever done. With Bucky’s tiny grunts, his intense eyes, the sting from the nails digging into his neck, and the smell of their sex in the room, he was lucky he didn’t just shoot off and end the moment. 

Well, end it for a moment. Steve hadn’t told Bucky about his staying power yet. Thinking about it wasn’t helping, yet Steve couldn’t stop himself. He’d thought about coming inside Bucky more than once, so that his come would leak out, but Steve would just keep going. Again and again, until Bucky was so wrecked with pleasure he would be limp and soft, his belly smeared with the evidence of all the orgasms Steve had wrung out of him… and it wasn’t helping him go slow. 

With a shudder Steve forced himself to slow down even more.

Needing a distraction, any distraction, Steve blurted, “There’s something else I didn’t tell you.”

“And now’s really the time?”

Steve laughed, more because Bucky’s voice was so strained, than it was funny.

“Kind of.”

“Fuck, just _say_ it.”

Bucky groaned, hand dropping from Steve’s neck to be thrown across his face once more. All that golden skin, that pose; Bucky was positively debauched.

“The serum, it um - Multiple orgasms are a thing.”

The arm across Bucky’s face slowly lifted, grey eyes staring at Steve incredulously.

“No.”

“Yes.” Steve smiled weakly. “I could fuck you twice, or three times in a row. Five. Ten, however many times you want. I could fuck you all night long.” Steve was getting lost in his words, in the fantasy of it again. “Literally. As long as you could stand it.”

“How…?”

“Just… give it some attention.”

Bucky’s eyes lit up like a fireworks show. 

“Oh,” he purred, “I’ll give it some attention.”

Against his will, Steve’s hips twitched and they both cried out as Steve slid the last few inches into Bucky’s body. Curling forward, Steve panted, because it made holding still so much easier. Beneath him, Bucky just trembled, eyes closed, knuckles pressed to his forehead as his pulse fluttered at his throat.

Steve swallowed, his throat so dry it clicked. He couldn't stop staring at the movement of Bucky’s Adams apple. He wanted to _bite_ it.

“I have to draw you,” Steve whispered. “Like this.” Bucky’s eyes opened a slit, eyeing Steve dubiously. “You’re so… God, Buck. You’re a vision. You should see you.”

Flushing, Bucky turned away, burrowing into his elbow again.

“No,” Steve urged, “Bucky, doll, look at me.” When Bucky ignored him, Steve tried to pull at his arm, but didn’t want to hurt him. “Bucky…” Narrowing his eyes, Steve growled. “Fine.”

Then he pulled back, and thrust inside Bucky in one, smooth motion. Bucky nearly came off the couch, shouting and clawing at Steve’s shoulder, his neck. If he hadn’t babbled, “Steve, Steve, Steve!” Steve would have worried it had hurt him. It felt so good being inside Bucky, feeling that tight heat clench down on him with every tiny shift of Bucky's body, Steve almost forgot he had a _point_ to what he was doing.

“You look at me when I tell you to,” Steve commanded, and felt Bucky’s entire body shudder. “That’s how this goes, remember?” 

Shakily, Bucky nodded and Steve slowly pulled out. 

“I tell you what to do.”

Steve thrust in hard, making Bucky shout again and dig in with his nails so hard Steve thought he might be drawing blood.

“And you do it.”

“Steve,” Bucky whimpered. The sound of his voice was doing things to Steve he could barely comprehend, and knew he could never give up. Slowly breaking Bucky down with pleasure was better than any of his fantasies.

“Yeah, doll?” 

“Please,” Bucky’s voice was a whisper, “don’t stop.”

With a grin, Steve kissed Bucky hard and began fucking into him. It wasn’t sweet and slow, but fast and brutal. Their skin slapping together echoed in Steve’s apartment, Steve’s thighs pressed against Bucky’s hips, over and over like strange applause. Bucky didn’t seem to notice, hanging on to Steve for all he was worth, shouting and moaning, his impressive abs working his ass so that he pushed down onto Steve every time.

For his part, Steve didn’t bother to hang on. The rush and coil of his pleasure surged inside him like lighting, singing along his spine. He let it all wash over him, the sound and smell and feeling of Bucky, then curled his lover in half just to enjoy his taste. He wanted to gorge himself on Bucky, on his sex, his very being. His mouth swallowed Bucky’s cries, their kisses sloppy and wet as Steve didn’t slow down for a moment, pounding with reckless abandon. When he came, he came hard, breaking the kiss to shout into Bucky’s neck, spilling himself inside him just like he’d imagined.

“Steve?” Bucky asked, breathless and worried. 

If he had thought going slow was hard, not stopping now was worse. His cock was painfully over-sensitive, but Steve knew it would last for only moments. Each moment felt like an hour, though, as he whimpered and cried out into Bucky’s neck, thrusting just as quickly into Bucky’s body so that he couldn’t maintain his concern. 

Bucky arched, gulping down a sob, and cried out, “Oh, god! You- Inside me… and…”

Unable to speak, Steve just grunted. Sweat slicked their skin so they slid against one another easily, Bucky’s dark hair curled about his face. He was so goddamn beautiful, and somehow he was Steve’s.

Without much warning, Bucky’s body constricted painfully around Steve’s cock. He shouted, his back arching like a bow, neck straining so his tendons stood out in relief against his skin. The hand on Steve’s shoulder scrabbled again, scratching new welts and thin lines across his skin. Then he was jerking, cock spurting ribbons of come across his stomach and chest, before he fell still. Steve paused as well, still hard, but watching the way Bucky heaved for breath, the way his pulse thudded under his skin, and the way he was, at last, completely unaware of Steve’s gaze.

After what felt like several, long minutes, Bucky murmured, “Steve?” without opening his eyes. In response, Steve rolled his hips, reminding Bucky of the hard cock still buried inside him, and Bucky gasped and shuddered. “Oh, my god, you’re going to kill me.”

“Hmm,” Steve pursed his lips and rolled his hips again, “You saying you can’t take care of me sweetheart?”

Dazedly, Bucky shook his head, then slowly looked up at Steve.

“Just tell me what to do.”

Steve shuddered, those words more powerful aloud than they’d ever been on his phone’s tiny screen.

Leaning down, he kissed Bucky tenderly, then whispered against his lips, “Just take it. I’ll be done soon.”

Bucky let out a low, choked-off moan that went straight to Steve’s cock, making it throb.

“Yes,” Bucky breathed out, his pupils so dilated they ate up all color as he stared into Steve’s eyes. “Please,” he added as if Steve needed more encouragement.

“That’s good, doll,” Steve praised, then braced his hands on either side of Bucky’s face, making sure Bucky had a good view of his pecs flexing. Only then did he pull out, then thrust into Bucky again. The slow slide of his cock sinking all the way into the obscene heat was enough to make them both moan. 

Steve couldn’t take his eyes away from Bucky’s as he picked up speed, his body see-sawing between too much and not enough. He was sensitive, but still so hungry, so ready to fuck and fill Bucky with his come. God, Steve wanted to mark him, inside and out; wanted to make Bucky his, keep him, and never let him go. 

Doing his best to extend the moment, Steve didn’t let himself go too quickly. Bucky was letting out little moans that all but short circuited Steve’s brain. There was no other thought in his head than pleasure, than his cock and Bucky’s hole, his scent and his heat and the pleasure that broke again at last. Steve’s whole body tensed as the release rolled through him. It felt like his orgasm was never-ending, his cock endlessly pulsing inside the man below him.

“Steve,” Bucky groaned loudly.

Trying to focus, Steve gasped, “Better than on the phone?” 

Bucky just cuffed him upside the head.

Laughing, Steve pulled out, his cock twitching one last time. Lube and come trailed from his cock, leaking from Bucky’s hole, and making a mess as he watched Bucky’s swollen ring of muscle twitch and slowly start to tighten. Licking his lips, Steve spread Bucky’s cheeks in his hands, lifting Bucky up so he could get a better look as his come continued to drip down Bucky’s skin.

“Steve,” Bucky whimpered, his words muffled by his arm again.

Glancing up at his face, then down at the relatively clean couch, Steve sighed and adjusted his hold on Bucky. With his hands around his waist, he lifted the bulky man easily, and held him against his side. Bucky flushed, but got with the program, and wrapped his arm and legs around Steve’s torso. 

Yet, when he spoke, he didn’t sound happy or blissed-out any more.

“We didn’t use protection.” 

Steve frowned; Bucky feeling worried wasn’t acceptable.

“I can't get or carry anything. You’re safe.”

“...mess,” Bucky mumbled after a moment. “I’m a mess.”

“That’s why we’re going to the shower,” Steve chuckled, turning his head and kissing the top of Bucky’s, which rested on his shoulder.

“Oh. Thought… bed.”

“Later. I’m gonna get you nice and clean first.”

The pitch of his voice had the desired effect, making Bucky shudder from head to toe. Steve just grinned, opening the door to his bedroom and proceeding to the giant, master bathroom that Tony had customized for him. The shower could hold three people his size, with a tiled seat, and two, handheld shower heads that didn’t take any time to heat up.

Steve _really_ liked the future.

Bucky stumbled when Steve set him on his feet inside the glass enclosure, but Steve made sure to keep him close until he had his footing. Then he turned the water on the left shower.

“I made a mess of you,” Steve murmured as the soothing sound of water filled the room, steam rising quickly. He turned on the right, more than a little proud, and he wasn't trying to hide it. “Come ‘ere, lean against me.”

Obediently, Bucky stepped into the spray and Steve wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him close. Bucky threw his arm around Steve’s back in kind, then practically slumped against his chest. Laughing, Steve kissed his forehead, smoothed back his hair, then spent a moment just running his hands over the broad expanse of Bucky’s back. There was so much strength in the muscles under Steve’s hands. He trailed fingertips over the scars reaching from the stump of Bucky’s shoulder far onto his back, thinking it must have been horrifying, whatever took Bucky’s arm. Steve admired him all the more for surviving.

Sliding his hands downward, massaging gently, he stopped at the swell of Bucky’s cheeks. He grabbed two handfuls of the firm muscle and squeezed, enjoying the huff of exhaled air on his chest. Kneading earned him a gentle, encouraging moan, so he spread the firm globes. The spray of hot water hit Bucky’s hole, and the body in Steve’s arms shuddered.

“I told you I was going to clean you, didn’t I?” 

Bucky nodded quickly and Steve smiled, letting his fingers brush the slightly swollen ring of muscle. Tracing the heated flesh had Bucky trembling again, pressing his forehead harder against Steve’s chest. His breaths were deep and slow, ribs expanding against Steve’s arms.

He pushed a finger in and Bucky pushed onto his tiptoes, a quiet, “Steve,” on his lips.

“Shh,” Steve hushed. “You’re a mess.”

Whimpering, Bucky rubbed his face against him, burrowing further into the crook of Steve’s neck. He didn’t protest again, though, just spread his legs, leaning more of his weight against Steve, and shuddered each time Steve’s fingers slipped back inside him.

“That’s good,” he praised, kissing Bucky’s temple, “You’re so, so good, doll. That? What we did? Never knew anything so damn satisfying.”

More than the touch, it was Steve’s words that affected Bucky. He shivered again, humming quiet moans, breathing hard, and holding as tight to Steve as Steve thought he could. It was humbling yet gratifying to know _he_ was the cause, the _reason_ for the reaction. Bucky was perfect. Beautiful, sensitive, and generous with his body, offering it to Steve so damn easily. Steve’s chest swelled with the feelings filling him, the heavy certainty that this was it. This was the love he had looked for all these years.

When Bucky squirmed against him, his fingernails digging into Steve’s muscles, Steve eased off, slipping his fingers free from the tight clutch. Beneath Steve’s arm, Bucky’s back muscles relaxed, proving his hunch had been correct. 

Shifting his weight, he guided Bucky to the bench seat, but took it for himself. He sat Bucky on his thigh, holding him about the waist while reaching for the soap. Humming again, Bucky melted against his side, limp and pliant as Steve cleaned them both. Steam clouded the shower walls by the time he was done, shut off the water, and lifted Bucky into a bridal carry. 

Steve felt more at peace than he could remember in a very long time. Perhaps ever. The calm sense of contentment permeating his whole body was entirely due to the man in his arms. Steve would make sure to tell Bucky after they rested, how much this thing between them meant to him. How it was more than just sex.

Grabbing two towels as he passed through the bathroom, Steve carried Bucky to the bed. He tossed one onto the covers, then laid Bucky on it. There was barely a twitch in Bucky’s lean muscles as Steve dried him off, but his eyes were open, slitted, and watching Steve with a small smile on his face. They only widened when Steve stopped to dry himself. Then they tracked Steve’s hands, making it tempting to linger and put on a show. He didn’t think Bucky could handle another round, though, so he squashed the idea and tossed his towel aside, before yanking the one beneath Bucky free.

“Hey!” Bucky squawked.

Steve smirked.

“Can’t laze there all day.”

“Watch me,” Bucky huffed, then sprawled across half of Steve’s extra large bed, arms and legs akimbo. The position offered Steve a nice view of Bucky’s ass, his used hole flashing pink and puffy.

“I’m watching alright,” Steve drawled.

Flushing, Bucky twisted, hiding his ass in the sheets. Steve just raised an eyebrow.

“I nailed you to my couch, and now you’re shy?”

“Shut up,” Bucky grumbled, looking away.

Steve swallowed, overwhelmed with feelings he’d never expected.

“I never want to stop,” Steve whispered, kneeling on the bed and leaning over Bucky. “Watching you, touching you.” He brushed a damp curl from Bucky’s collarbone and enjoyed the resulting rush of goosebumps across Bucky’s chest. “I don’t want to stop.”

“Me neither,” Bucky whispered. “I,” Bucky cleared his throat, then hooked his hand on Steve’s neck and pulled Steve down to his side. “I love you, too.”

Steve grinned as Bucky bit his lip, then yanked Bucky to him, holding their bodies flush. 

“Stay tonight?”

Bucky nodded, still nibbling Steve’s lip, and Steve couldn’t help himself. He kissed him, sweet and tender and soft, and let every other thought but _Bucky_ float to the back of his mind.


	4. Epilogue

The light streaming through the curtains the next morning was _not_ a welcome way to wake up. Bucky was warm, burrowed under deep, soft blankets, and curled into the arms of the strongest, hottest man on the planet. At least, he thought, if he had to be awake, this was a wonderful place to be. Steve’s lips were pressed into his hair, arms loose about his torso. Their legs had tangled together in the night, comfortable and easy, nothing awkward despite never having slept in the same bed. 

Bucky sighed, smiled up at Steve, and kissed his nose. If he had to be awake, Steve could at least keep him entertained. A second kiss, and Steve’s nose twitched, and again, and he leaned back, blinking blearily at Bucky.

“Morning, sunshine,” Bucky purred.

Then his stomach chose that moment to rumble audibly and ruin the mood. Steve, being a shit, laughed.

“Morning. Do I get a kiss, or do you have a thing against morning breath?”

Bucky smiled.

“You can always have a kiss,” he promised.

Closing the distance between them, he kissed Steve lightly, brushing their lips together in slow, gentle sweeps that left his lips tingling pleasantly. Then _Steve_ ruined the moment as his stomach let out what Bucky could only describe as a roar.

“Jesus,” Bucky laughed, leaning back to find Steve flushing pink, “Is that where you keep your mountain lion?”

“Shut up,” Steve grumbled.

“Make me,” Bucky taunted, brushing their noses together.

“I would, but then one of us would starve to death.”

“Don’t be reasonable,” Bucky grumbled, flopping back onto his pillow. “Or rational, for that matter.” He looked at Steve, eyed the way his lips were twitching to hold back laughter, and sighed. “So what’s for breakfast?”

“Uh, well,” Steve pushed a hand through his hair, “I don’t really have anything breakfast food here. Normally I have breakfast in the common room with the others.”

“Others,” Bucky repeated flatly, disliking this scenario for a whole host of reasons starting with _his missing arm_ , and ending with having to get out of bed at all. 

“Yep,” Steve chirped, the false cheer falling a bit flat. “You know, Tony and Nat and Clint and Bruce? Who I’ve been telling you about?”

Bucky threw his arm over his eyes and groaned. For a moment last night, before Steve had fucked the thought out of his head, Bucky _had_ realized these people were _The Avengers_. The normal co-workers and friends Steve bitched and griped about to him on a daily basis were fucking superheroes. And they would probably know exactly what happened between Steve and him at first glance. Maybe even the details, because they were just that scary.

“Hey,” Bucky peaked out from beneath his arm, finding Steve leaning over him. Large, calloused fingers brushed across his cheek and Bucky shivered. “I can order from food services. It’ll take a bit, but we can lie in bed, wait for it to come,” Steve’s stomach roared again, but the guy just blushed and continued on valiantly, “and maybe make out a little?”

Again, Bucky groaned. It was what he wanted to do, it sounded _wonderful_ , but it wasn’t what his therapist would want him to do. It wasn’t what he thought Steve really wanted to do. Well, the make-out session did, but waiting for food with that lion in his belly? Not so much. 

“You won’t leave me alone for a second?” Bucky bartered, because if he was doing this, he was getting something out of it goddamn it. “And you have to come to lunch with me and meet my sister.”

Steve looked like Bucky had force fed him a lemon.

“Fair’s fair, Steve,” Bucky pointed out. “I meet yours, you meet mine. At least be happy she’s not waiting outside the door, unlike your family.” 

“The common room is not on this floor,” Steve huffed, but his lips were twitching and Bucky already knew he’d won.

“Semantics,” Bucky grumbled, but was resigned to this course of action. Staying in would be easier, but neither he nor Steve were ones to choose the easiest path.

“You have a deal,” Steve said somberly, so Bucky cuffed him upside the head. The laugh that pulled from Steve was brilliant, like lying in a beam of sunshine, and Bucky tried to hold on to his grumpieness as best he could.

“Is it too late to barter that you do this without pants on?”

Steve stared at him for a long moment, then rolled out of bed. “Yep,” he popped, heading to the dresser to dig out clothes. Thankfully, he remembered he’d ruined Bucky’s outfit and tossed sweats and a shirt Bucky’s way. No underwear, but Bucky wasn’t going to comment. He was pretty sure Steve had done it on purpose.

“Shame,” Bucky sighed wistfully, pushing up onto his elbow so he could have a better view as Steve got dressed. And it was one hell of a view, nearly distracting Bucky from the upcoming breakfast. Nearly. It was impossible to keep his thoughts focused even on something as spectacular as Steve’s ass when he was going to meet new people. Meeting new people was never easy, not since he’d lost his arm. There were always questions and the dread of those questions left him anxious at the mere thought, not to mention the awkward stares, the pitying looks… Bucky hated it. All of it. Thus why he hadn’t made any new friends, or met anyone to date, since getting back from the war.

Steve pulled on a shirt, glanced Bucky’s way, and disappeared into the bathroom. With a sigh, Bucky slid from bed and started getting ready as well. Without a gorgeous distraction, Bucky was left with his thoughts. He had to admit it wasn’t just that he was meeting _new_ people, it was _who_ he was going to be meeting. Steve had talked about Tony, Natasha, and the rest of the Avengers like family. Since his parents were dead, Bucky figured they _were_ his family. There was no chance they didn’t know he had just rolled out of bed with their darling Captain America. Someone was going to say something, and Bucky… wasn’t sure he was ready for this new thing between them to be exposed. Not to the kind of scrutiny of _family_. He was even considering revoking his invitation to take Steve to his lunch with Becca. Not that he would; if he had to suffer, Steve had to suffer, too. 

The toilet flushed and Bucky brushed past him, taking his own turn in the bathroom. He took deep breaths, reminding himself it was just a meal, no big deal. Who was he kidding? Becca was nowhere near as scary as a whole team of superheroes. The whole superhero shtick deserved repeating: They were superheroes, and he was a broken soldier. It deserved repeating _and_ underlining. Steve meeting his family didn’t come close to comparing to what he was about to do. 

And yet… he wasn’t going to take it back. Not when he’d seen that shine in Steve’s eyes. Steve wanted this, wanted them to get along, probably wanted them to approve of Bucky. 

Fuck… this was going to be a disaster.

Steve was waiting when Bucky left the bathroom, which was a little stalker-ish, but Bucky needed the support right then. Somehow, Steve must have known, because he took Bucky’s hand and walked with him to the living room, then to the elevator. They weren’t talking, but Steve’s hand was holding Bucky’s tightly, their shoulders bumping. At least Steve was aware he was asking a lot and taking Bucky’s demand to not be left alone seriously. Bucky was going to _murder him_ \- one arm, or not; Captain America, or not; _the entire fucking door_ , or not - if Steve left him alone with _the Avengers_.

In the elevator, Steve switched from holding Bucky’s hand, to wrapping an arm around Bucky’s waist and holding him close. Which was nice, since Bucky couldn’t really do anything when Steve had his only hand occupied, and Bucky leaned against him heavily. Steve was like a wall, though, just giving him a squeeze and taking his considerable bulk without even swaying. Even through his anxiety and mild panic, Bucky was aware of how _nice_ it was to have a guy like Steve.

“Common room,” an artificial voice announced, and Bucky slipped from Steve’s hold. It wasn’t that he _wanted_ to lose that silent support, he just didn’t want to appear to be all over Steve. Even if he was all over Steve, or Steve was all over him. Steve _had_ initiated the contact, after all.

Fuck his brain.

Bucky needed the distance, though. As the door opened and the sounds of people reached his ears, his skin crawled and tension tightened his muscles. Continued touch would have been unpalatable, no matter how comforting when they were alone. Steve, the mind reader that he was, stayed close, but didn’t reinitiate contact. Bucky appreciated that more than he could express.

“Steve!” Tony Stark shouted, throwing his hands in the air and spinning his stool to face them. “Finally! And thank fuck, you brought your boo.”

Bucky twitched. Boo? Who even said that these days. Boo. What was he, a toddler?

“Shut up, Tony,” Steve replied evenly.

Taking a breath, Bucky waved his fingers at the gathered Avengers. Then Bucky remembered to smile. So he did, if belatedly. Damn, he wasn’t making a good impression, but every single one of them was present, probably to meet him. The Black Widow was more gorgeous in person than on camera, and Bucky hadn’t even thought that was possible. She was standing next to Hawkeye, who was the only Avenger not looking at Bucky. The coffee pot in the Black Widow’s hands was apparently far more important. Hell, the guy was bouncing anxiously as if he thought the entire pot was about to be drained before his eyes. Bucky immediately felt a deep kinship with the guy; he wasn’t a morning person either.

“How did you sleep?” the dark haired man in spectacles asked. It took Bucky a moment to place him: Bruce Banner, The Hulk, but as his normal, professorial self. In his mind he’d understood that the guy shapeshifted into a giant troll, but seeing him as a regular guy really put that in perspective.

“How did he sleep?” the Black Widow repeated, an edge of incredulousness coloring the question. “Really, Bruce?” Passing the coffee to Hawkeye, she eyed Bucky pointedly and said, “What he really wants to know is, how was the sex?”

“Nope,” Steve said loudly. “Not on the table.”

The Black Widow pouted and Bucky understood why she was so deadly.

“Even I knew that,” Tony Stark twirled back around on his silver and red stool to lean his elbows on the glossy, stainless steel counter of the kitchen island they were all gathered around. He sounded strangely proud of himself, like a kid scoring a game point. “Robin Hood, coffee me?”

“No more coffee,” Hawkeye declared, walking away with the entire pot.

“Oh, hell no,” Bucky blurted, “I haven’t had any yet.”

The kitchen went quiet, all eyes on Bucky. Hawkeye was eyeing him like a target he might use for practice, which was apparently the opening Steve used to sneak behind him and liberate the pot from Hawkeye’s hands.

“Hey!”

“Share,” Steve intoned, making Hawkeye’s shoulders slump in defeat. 

‘ _Daddy Steve_!’ jumped out in Bucky's thoughts and he didn’t know what to do with himself except blush.

“Tony,” Banner chuckled, “I think it’s time you got Clint his own coffee pot.”

“I did,” Tony flapped a hand in the air, “he broke it.”

“I did not,” Clint crossed his arms and stuck his nose in the air, but Bucky was more keen on watching Steve pour a single mug from the liberated pot. 

“So that wasn’t your arrow embedded in the wall?” Tony spread his hands out wide. “It was someone else’s, someone _else_ who uses a bow and arrow to fight in the twenty-first century? Who is that, Hawkguy, huh?”

“You don’t get to call me Hawkguy,” Hawkeye grumbled petulantly.

“To be fair,” Steve interjected, “he shot that arrow to save your life, Tony.”

“And he wouldn’t have had to shoot it at all if your invention had worked,” Bruce pointed out before sipping from his mug. Bucky was not staring longingly. He was _not_.

“Inconsequential,” Tony flapped his hand again. No wonder no one had sat on either of the stools to his left and right. “He still broke it.”

Steve set the coffee mug before Bucky and smiled at him. In the background, Bucky was pretty sure the Avengers were still bickering about who exactly was at fault for breaking the second pot, but Bucky wasn’t listening. 

“Awwww,” Tony cooed, breaking through Bucky’s fluffy cloud of thoughts on how pretty Steve was when he gave him coffee. “Ow!”

Bucky looked over in time to see a fork clatter onto the island countertop.

“Silence,” the Black Widow commanded, “or Steve won’t cook breakfast.”

“And then we’ll all starve,” Bruce added, “because none of the rest of us know how.”

To Bucky’s surprise, Tony didn’t respond at all, just mimed zipping his lips closed.

“None of you knows how to cook?” his mouth said without his permission.

“They left that out at spy school,” the Black Widow said dryly.

Tony said, “Brucey and I are too smart to learn something so trivial.” Clint threw another fork at his forehead. “Ow!”

“Speak for yourself,” Bruce chimed in, “I know how to cook. It’s not my fault none of you appreciate my skills.”

“Bruce,” Tony said with with a forced kind of smile, “you just _think_ you know how to cook.”

“Cooking is just combining ingredients to reach a certain result,” Bruce defended, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“What you do is not cooking,” Clint huffed. “It’s chemistry with spices and it’s not… _food,_ and I know food.”

While they’d bickered, Steve had left Bucky’s side, moving to the fridge and the stove, breaking out bowls and ingredients and pans. Bucky almost got up to help him, but he hadn’t finished his coffee yet.

“Clint _does_ know food,” the Black Widow said, looking pointedly at Bruce, who crossed his arms and didn’t argue.

He did grumble, “Philistines,” under his breath.

“So, Bucky,” Tony swiveled his way, perching his chin in the palm of his hand, “we’ve heard nothing about you. Please tell us everything so we don’t have to find out on our own.”

“Tony,” Steve sighed.

“What? We’re _spies_ , Steven -”

“You are not a spy,” the Black Widow interrupted. Tony ignored her.

“- if he doesn’t tell us, we’re just going to go find out anyway, and that’s a massive waste of resources. We’re all here, now, so…” Tony’s dark eyes locked on Bucky’s again. “Tell us about _you_.”

All those eyes on Bucky should have been intimidating. These people were _superheroes_ , they had saved the world, they were geniuses and could kill him with their pinkies. And yet, they scwabled like children and didn’t know how to cook. Bucky couldn’t find that feeling of inadequacy he’d cultivated in the bathroom anywhere.

“Former military,” Bucky offered, “honorable discharge after...” He motioned to his arm and tried not to make a big deal out of it. It helped that no one looked at him with pity. “I live in Brooklyn, work as a building super, basically doing all the maintenance and gardening. I have a younger sister, and I’m gay.”

Like a child with attention deficit disorder, Tony’s attention flipped to Steve.

“Cap, are you gay?”

“They call it bi, Tony.”

Bucky watched Clint throw another fork at Tony’s head and scowled when the genius ducked out of its way.

“Rude,” Bucky pointed out.

Tony blinked in surprise.

“Was it?” 

“Very,” the Black Widow, Bruce and Steve said together.

“Huh,” Tony shrugged. “Noted. Sorry.”

Eyebrows climbing into his hairline, Bucky couldn’t decide if Tony Stark was for real. From the completely unsurprised looks of the others, though, Bucky thought he might actually be _that_ oblivious to social norms. 

“Steve,” Bucky said slowly.

“Hmm?”

“They’re insane. Are you hiding your crazy somewhere I haven’t noticed?”

“Under the bed,” Clint laughed. “They always put it under the bed.”

“No,” Bucky said evenly, not taking his eyes off Steve’s back. “I checked.”

“Good call,” the Black Widow said with complete seriousness that made Bucky’s spine crawl.

Shaking his head, Steve smiled at Bucky; it was so sweet and saccharine that he didn’t believe it for a moment.

“Nope.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes.

“Cap is an adrenaline junky,” Clint answered, and Bucky _really_ liked the guy. “He jumps off stuff, runs around with just that shield-”

“Clint!” Steve sounded like an offended grandma, outraged and scandalized. 

“No, no,” Bucky leaned his elbows on the countertop, “I want to hear this.”

Steve rolled his eyes so hard, his head moved.

“Yes, alright, I’m an adrenaline junky. We all are. It takes a certain craziness to want to be an Avenger.”

Frowning, Bucky eyed Steve’s back.

“What does he mean, you jump off things?”

Steve’s neck slumped.

“It’s perfectly safe.” The Black Widow cleared her throat. “It’s _mostly_ safe. I have a job getting _shot at_ ; nothing I do is perfectly safe.”

“Fair,” she said, lips quirking in a smile.

“He jumped on a grenade once,” Tony chirped.

“It wasn’t live!” Steve returned, his voice rising heatedly. Bucky was getting the feeling the Avengers liked to tease Steve about this a lot. 

Gleefully, perhaps to prove Bucky’s hunch, Clint added, “He jumped out of a plane without a parachute last week.”

“Into the _ocean_ ,” Steve sighed. “I was fine. I’ve done it plenty.” 

“... plenty?” Bucky repeated.

Steve stopped, slowly turning wide eyes on Bucky.

“It is not as bad as it sounds.” Then he glared fiercely at the other Avengers. “If you don’t stop scaring my boyfriend, I’m not cooking for a month.”

“Your boyfriend?” Bucky squeaked.

Nodding, Steve looked at Bucky with huge, puppy eyes and bit his lip.

“Obviously,” Tony drawled, ruining the moment entirely. 

Bucky threw a fork at him.

“Hey!” Tony rubbed his temple. “That is enough abuse from all of you.”

“No it’s not,” Bucky said, then laughed because Clint had said it at the exact same time.

“Oh god,” the Black Widow groaned, “there’s two of them.”

“No,” Steve huffed, “I’m not dating Clint.”

Clint pouted.

“Aw, man.”

“Sorry, bro,” Bucky grinned.

Clint sighed.

“Sure you are.”

“Anyway,” Tony said loudly, “Bandit, I want you in my lab after breakfast.”

“Tony,” Steve growled, his voice a delicious, dangerous growl.

Tony flapped his hand at Steve’s back.

“Calm down, Grandpa. I’m not going to hurt your boo. I need to take measurements of his arm and run some scans on his brain.”

“Uh, _why_?” Bucky asked, because what? Who did that? _Why_ would anyone do that? When Tony looked his way, Bucky realized he’d twisted, turning so his good arm was facing the man and the missing one was tucked behind him. Even though he knew it, he didn’t bother reversing the new position.

“Oh yeah,” Tony slapped his hand on the island counter, “I forgot to tell you. JARVIS, throw up the blueprints from project Bucky Bear.”

“Steve, I’m going to kill Iron Man,” Bucky growled.

“Not when you see this, you won’t,” Tony crowed, completely unaffected by the threat. “Check this out.” Glowing holograms shimmered into being above the counter as the Avengers leaning on it took steps back. Bucky figured out why when part of it flew through his head and sparkles danced before his eyes. Taking his own step back, Bucky scowled at the display - and then felt his mouth drop open as he realized what he was looking at. Someone - Tony - had written schematics to a prosthetic. A _life-like_ prosthetic. “I gotta run it by Brucey and Dr. Cho, but I think with the right connections we’ll be able to hardwire it to your nervous system. It’s just like the real deal. Only metal, and heavier, but after some physical therapy and that’ll be fine.”

Bucky’s mouth moved, but no sounds came out. Someone - Steve - put his arm around his shoulders.

“Hey,” Steve asked quietly, “you okay?”

“I-” with a valiant effort, Bucky cleared his throat. “No. This is… This is _incredible_. Tony, I-”

“Nope, don’t say it.” Tony covered his ears. “La, la, la, not listening.”

Bucky blinked, then looked up at Steve in confusion.

“He doesn’t like to be thanked,” Steve translated.

“But…” 

This was beyond huge. It went beyond money or any gift a stranger could give him. If it worked, it would change his whole life, make him whole again. Even if it didn't, the fact that Tony tried meant so much more than Bucky could imagine.

Steve smiled like he understood.

“Just say, ‘Okay, Tony, whatever you need me to do,’ and remember to answer his annoying, all-hours phone calls.”

For a brand new arm? That was the _least_ Bucky would do for Tony Stark.

“Okay, Tony, whatever you need me to do.”

“Great!” Tony dropped his hands and drummed on the countertop. “Lab, but food first.”

“Food first,” Steve agreed, brushing a kiss across Bucky’s cheek. Though it made him blush, Bucky didn’t object, just watched his new boyfriend return to making a mountain of food. His mouth was stretched into a grin so wide it hurt his cheeks. Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so happy, or even so comfortable. As the Avengers started to bicker about something else, Bucky relaxed, sipped his coffee and basked in the warmth of it. This was his life now. Steve, new friends, and a prosthetic like the world had never seen.

Somehow, Bucky had managed to land a fantasy-level boyfriend. Maybe it wouldn’t work out, but it was going to be one hell of an adventure. Bucky couldn’t wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Come and visit us on Tumblr
> 
> [xantissa](http://xantissa.tumblr.com)
> 
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> 
> [Fannishlove](http://fannishlove.tumblr.com/)


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